Him and Her
by JusticeReceived
Summary: What's the ageless god of the underworld doing hanging around Mystic Falls? Well, he's trying to get his girl of course.
1. Chapter 1

There is no sun here.

Millions of miles underneath the Earth's surface there is only dusky, gray light. It has no identifiable source; it's as though it simply seeps from the air.

There are plenty of sounds though. Sounds you've been lucky enough to never hear in your human life; sounds that have existed for eternity and will continue to exist after every living thing on the surface of the Earth is gone. In the Fields of Asphodel there is the incessant, low moaning of restless souls. The souls that wander those fields cannot speak. The languages that separated them when they were alive no longer exist, but the memories do. They wander the lifeless grassland all day (although the Underworld has no morning or night), searching for something familiar.

In Elysium there is always the sound of running water and bubbling laughter. The smell of cooking food wafts from the island in every direction; which was always curious because the dead don't eat. Perhaps they like the smell—the Gods are the same way.

In the Fields of Asphodel there are the sounds that cannot be described. If you've never heard flesh being peeled from someone's bones and the accompanying scream that _never_ gives way to unconsciousness, then let's hope you never will. There you will smell the thick, choking scent of burnt hair. The river of fire, Phelgethon, and the river of pain, Acheron, meet here.

Finally, there is Tartarus—the black abyss. Here you will find the most oppressing sound of all. Silence. It is not merely an absence of sound, but rather a heavy, penetrating quietness that presses down on you relentlessly. The pressure is so great that one finds they suddenly, _inexplicably_ wish to cast themselves into the void.

The Underworld is no place for the weak—or the living. So why is there a young woman—breathing and alive—running through the Fields of Asphodel? Surrounded by an incomprehensible number of souls she looks so small; like a child frolicking through a field of cotton. She's afraid, and she should be. But she's also determined. She believes she'll make it out; that she'll see the sun again.

What she doesn't see is the man in black, waiting for her only a few yards ahead. One moment he wasn't there, but now he is. The dead skitter away from him, made anxious by his very presence. By the time they've cleared away enough for the woman to see the man it's too late. She's too close to turn around. She throws her hands up—nothing happens. She looks desperate. The man stalks closer, an aura of black clinging to him like a second skin.

"There's no magic here, Bon." He's close enough to reach out and touch her, but instead, he offers her his hand. "None except mine."


	2. Chapter 2

Bonnie was going out of her mind.

"SIT!" She commanded, her index finger thrust out in front of her like she was picking an invisible nose. Her four-year-old cousin, Amana, came to a screeching halt. Amana looked back and forth between the disheveled couch she'd been jumping on and her Aunt Bonnie—weighing her options carefully. Once she'd determined that her best option to avoid a scolding was to cry, her face crumpled into one of agony. Bonnie shook her head and sighed. She went and picked up her small, sweaty, sticky cousin.

"Uh huh, Amana. Uh huh." She said, carrying the little girl out of her family's living room and into her own room. The house was empty, save Bonnie and her ward, since her father, Grams, and her Aunt Cynthia had gone to a town function. She was left babysitting the most excitable child on the east coast of the United States.

"BB, I don't want to go to sleep yet!" Amana yelled, squirming and writhing like a jungle cat. She shoved her head into Bonnie's neck, simultaneously upset with her and in need of consoling. Bonnie just sat Amana down on the bed and went to pick out the clothes Amana would put on after her bath. Bonnie had decided she couldn't go to bed in her current state.

"Nana, you know your bedtime was over an hour ago. I gave you what was supposed to be fifteen extra minutes, but now it's time to sleep. You're going to bathe and then we're both going to dreamland." Bonnie explained patiently. When she was done she was surprised not to hear a high-pitched whine—which was Amana's specialty—following her statement. She turned around.

The room was empty.

"Amana? Nana, playtime is over. Come out." Bonnie was only greeted with more silence, which was becoming more and more unwelcome with each passing moment. Bonnie sprinted out into the hallway and looked around. There was no movement; no small, brown girl with peanut butter stuck in her curly hair. No snickering or giggling coming from behind the curtains. Bonnie's heart hitched itself in her throat.

"Amana!" She croaked, jogging into the kitchen only to find the door to the back porch open. "Amana!" She called, more desperate now that she realized the child was out of the house.

Once Bonnie was in the backyard she was able to look around and survey the space, which was curiously empty of her cousin. Her house was situated directly in front of a heavily wooded area, so it was possible Amana had run into the trees. If that was the case it would take all night to find her if she didn't want to be found.

"Amana!" Bonnie cried again while pulling her cellphone out of her back pocket. She would have to call her dad and have them all come home. It was going to be embarrassing and horrifying to tell Aunt Cynthia that Bonnie, a seventeen-year old, had been incapable of watching a four-year-old. She cringed just thinking about it. But they needed to find Amana before the sun went down completely.

Before she was able to even type the numbers into her phone Bonnie heard something that made her blood curdle. It was a scream—the fearful, desperate scream of a child. After that, there was no thought. Bonnie took off into the woods.

The sun had already sank below the clouds sitting low on the western skyline, so what light was able to break through the trees was weak and utterly unhelpful. Bonnie stumbled and almost tripped several times, but the pain in her ankles was second to the worry she felt for her little cousin. She needed to find her before… something happened that couldn't be undone.

Bonnie stopped. She thought she could hear something, but wasn't sure if it was just her imagination. She stilled her ragged breathing and listened harder. There was definitely something—a low hissing sound. Bonnie stepped carefully over leaves and fallen branches, following the sound until it got louder and louder. Suddenly the trees opened up into a clearing. There, in the center, was her cousin Amana—wrapped up in the largest snake she had ever seen. A snake with the head of a woman.

Amana, whose body was bound completely by the snake, wasn't moving. It was hard for Bonnie to tell in the dark—Amana's skin color made it even more difficult—but her cousin's seemed to be turning a deep shade of blue. Bonnie didn't know what to do.

"Amana!" She screamed out of impulse. She prayed silently that her scream would somehow rouse her unconscious cousin, but Amana remained still and lifeless. She had however gained the attention of the snake-woman.

The snake's human head whipped sickly towards Bonnie's direction and Bonnie thought she might throw up. Seeing a snake's eyes on a woman's face was so unnatural—so wrong—that it made her head spin. But thankfully, the snake-lady began to release Amana—whose lifeless body slumped over onto the ground. Unfortunately, the horrid monster then began to slither menacingly across the clearing toward Bonnie.

Bonnie had enough fear in her to take several steps back, but not enough to run away. She couldn't leave her cousin lying limp out there—even if it meant this was the moment she was going die. And how strange it would be, she thought, to die like this.

That thought was abruptly blasted from her mind as the clearing exploded-or _seemed_ to explode. Bonnie had to shield her eyes from the black light emanating out of a vortex that had just suddenly appeared out of thin air—only three or four feet from her unconscious cousin. The snake-lady was thrown up into the air and slammed hard into a tree on the other end of the clearing. The impact seemed to shake the very ground. Bonnie, miraculously, was spared. She remained rooted to the same spot she had resigned herself to.

The dark light faded slowly, and when it was finally gone Bonnie took her hands from around her eyes. At first, there was nothing. Then, there was a man.

A man shrouded in black mist, standing beside Amana's tiny, wilted body. He seemed to regard Amana with cautious interest and curiosity, but in the end, stepped gently around her. Bonnie wasn't sure he was even aware of her presence yet, as his gaze was cast in the direction of the snake.

The reptilian atrocity had shaken off her previous impact and poised herself in a manner of attack—long, scaly body coiled beneath her and head raised high. She didn't approach the man, but rather remain still as he glided closer. She released a low, sharp hiss.

" _Lamia_ —still after children I see. One would think that after all this time you'd have given up." The man said, his voice asserting itself over the hissing. He moved closer and closer and Bonnie wondered what exactly she was watching. "You know my sister would never give you the satisfaction of keeping one. And just think, what kind of mother would you would make?" He taunted. Lamia—the lady with fangs—lurched forward and then retreated. She seemed, to Bonnie, to be offended.

"It's time to go home L." He said, sounding both apologetic and apathetic all at once. Lamia turned her head to the sky, and in a show of anguish that would have turned hearts more hard than Bonnie's, gave a single hiss. Then she melted into ash and what little wind touched that clearing blew her into nothingness.

Bonnie felt a moment of hesitation—a single second where she was unsure whether she should go to her cousin or stay hidden until the man was gone. Her indecision was fleeting though. She gave a start and then raced to her cousin, dropping to her knees beside the small girl.

Amana had regained some of her color but her breathing was frighteningly shallow. Bonnie placed her hands on Amana's face gently and prayed to whatever God was in Heaven that she would be okay. She didn't notice the man in black kneeling down next to her until he was right beside her. Upon instinct, she gathered up Amana and drew her into her chest, away from the young man. Well, he appeared young to Bonnie; probably in his twenties.

The man studied Bonnie with what could only be described as _shocked awe_. His eyes grew to be twice their normal size and his hand was slowly lifting up from his side and drifting towards her. She scooted away as best she could with a child in her arms. The man let his hand drop back to his side. Bonnie felt a small tick of movement against her and gasped. Amana was waking up.

Bonnie didn't understand the events that had just passed, but in that moment she was happier and more content than she had ever been in her whole life. She began to move, putting her feet under herself and getting a better grip on the little girl. Once she was up she turned to the man, who had stood up with her.

Carefully, she spoke to him. "Thank you." She couldn't think of anything more appropriate to say, and Amana was gaining more consciousness with each second. The man in black gave a half-nod. It was awkward, and the silence only propelled her to move away faster.

Bonnie, with her back to the clearing, carried her cousin out into the woods. She didn't see the man in black raise his hand, as if willing her to stay. As if gathering the courage to yell, _wait!_

But she felt it when Amana finally lifted her head and asked, "BB? What happened?" in her croaky, high-pitched child's voice. Bonnie smiled tiredly, not sure she could make it home and go on like she hadn't just witnesses hell on Earth.

But, still, she said softly, "Nothing, Nana. Nothing. Now sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

_138 B.C._

" _NO. I will not have it!" The woman declared, sweeping the thick, long braids from in front of her face. She was livid—filled with a fire one only sees when an active volcano has begun to erupt. Her frame shook like a stalk of barley in a slight breeze, but in every other way she was immovable. This was Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. Her skin was dark—not unlike the rich soil lining the banks of the Nile River, which feeds every other river in Africa. Her hair flowed in heavy braids from her scalp to her hips, and they undulated at her every movement, like a plain of wheat the day before a tornado rips through and uproots everything._

" _Sister, see reason. A battle between you and Hades would see the world destroyed. He loves her. Why can't you let him have her?" Zeus questioned, only half interested. Zeus sauntered from where he stood and took his place at the largest throne in the room. Zeus, the King of Gods and ruler of the sky, was no match for his fuming sister. His golden hair and off-hand way of interacting with everyone made him seem like more of an ass than they knew him to be._

" _Our daughter has no place in the Underworld. I would sacrifice every mortal life on the planet to protect her soul from the darkness residing in Hades domain. He must not wed her." Demeter dictated, no ounce of humor or humility in her tone. Zeus eyed her warily._

" _What's this about souls? We have none, I assure you Demeter. There is no darkness in Hades that does not already dwell in the world of the living. Hades will do as he pleases, as always." He intoned, a hint of exasperation coloring his words. Zeus' cavalier attitude towards the fate of their daughter did nothing to pacify Demeter—in fact, she was steadily reaching a point from which she would be unable to return._

" _Mark my words brother, for they are far from idle. Harvest will not come again until I have my daughter returned to me. Farmers will toil in their fields all day but yield no crop. There will be no morsel of grain or meat to offer in the fire. And when the season of ice and frost descends upon the Earth, it will be the worst any mortal has ever known. The ground will freeze and famine will begin to consume. Mothers and babes will freeze in their beds, and I shall think them lucky to never know the pain of having a children ripped from their world." Demeter spoke with such vicious intent and spiteful determination that Zeus was tempted to smite her where she stood. He refrained._

" _Do as you wish Demeter. I can no more make Hades give Persephone back then I can stop you from doing as you say. Away with you. I'll have no more of this miserable discussion." He said, shooing her away. This was a mistake on Zeus' part, for Demeter was not known to make empty threats. She cast him a withering glace, swept up her floor-length dress, and disappeared._

 _ **Present**_

"Class, please welcome our new student, Charlie Parker." Alaric announced. The new kid stood at the entrance to the classroom, almost as if he was still considering coming in. Everyone gave half-hearted _hellos_ and then went back to their previous conversations. However, there was something about him that held Bonnie's attention. For one, he seemed to her to be severely emaciated—his skin was stretched tight across his facial bones, which made him look like a sheathed skeleton. Compounding his scraggy appearance was his distinct—dirtiness. He looked like he'd fallen in several dumpsters. His gray eyes, which seemed without depth and utterly lifeless, sank into his face. Those haunted eyes scanned the classroom and landed on Bonnie. His face seemed to get even tighter.

"You can take a seat Charlie." Mr. Saltzman said, pointing to the empty chair next to Bonnie. Charlie gave a strange half-nod—like he wasn't sure that was the appropriate thing to do—and made his way to the seat. Alaric began his lecture about the Civil War and Bonnie tried to pay attention, but she couldn't. Her eyes felt like lead weights.

She'd been up every night that week until the wee hours of the morning doing research—and the results weren't that promising. Bonnie couldn't seem to remember the exact details of what happened in the clearing. Everyday the memory became less and less real, and more like a dream. _A dream._ That's what she'd told Amana when she woke up the next morning. _It was just a dream, Nana. No more peanut butter so close to bedtime from now on._ Bonnie was beginning to doubt herself. Maybe it wasn't what it seemed. Perhaps it wasn't magic. Perhaps Bonnie's lie to Amana hadn't been as much of a lie as she'd once thought.

Through the haze of her sleepy stupor Bonnie could feel the weight of someone's gaze on her. Covertly—without turning her head—she looked over to where the new kid was sitting. A chill ran through her midsection when she realized that his hollow stare was locked unerringly on her. Worse, he didn't look away upon being caught.

An hour later the bell rang and she collected her things to go meet with Caroline and Elena for lunch. She had the feeling that Charlie hadn't taken his eyes off her the entire class period, though she never looked back after the first time.

Since the gang always ate lunch outside, on one of the picnic tables, Bonnie had to buy her food and carry it outdoors. The struggle was opening the door to the courtyard without dropping her tray. With her tray balanced precariously on one hand she pushed the door open with the other, but a gust of wind burst through the doorframe and sent her reeling. A lot of things happened at once. Someone caught her tray, and someone caught her.

Bonnie could feel cold seeping through her clothes where her savior's hand held her. It was an unpleasant, unnatural cold and she moved quickly to free herself from its grasp. Turning around, she was greeted by Charlie—the new kid. He held her tray out in one hand, offering it to her. Bonnie took it, careful not to touch his skin.

"Thank you." She sighed. A part of her was reluctant to look Charlie in the face, for his countenance was so gaunt and unfriendly that any normal eye might find a natural aversion to it. However, she pushed through and met his unaffected stare. "Thanks Charlie." She repeated, but this time with a smile. Charlie's appearance, which before had been icy and indifferent, assumed an air of dutifulness. Acting so quickly that Bonnie was forced to take a step back—he bowed slightly, turned, and left. She tried not to look too much into that.

"You're late Ms. Bennett!' Caroline informed Bonnie as she approached their table. Caroline and Elena sat at their regular spot—the table beneath the oak tree, directly adjacent to the parking lot. The tree provided shade for the more sunny days, and their group was afforded plenty of privacy. "We were just talking about the Miss Mystic Fall Pageant application process." Caroline continued as Bonnie set her things down.

Elena nodded, turning to Bonnie with a smile. "Be glad your not applying, it's hell." She said, her tone much less enthusiastic than their blonde friend's. Bonnie murmured in agreement. She couldn't tell her friends how she really felt about the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. She couldn't explain to them that it wasn't a choice for her not to apply, but rather a necessity if she was to spare herself pain and indignation. The Miss Mystic Falls Pageant was for the _fabulous_ young ladies who happen to descend from the town's founders. The selection committee would never deign to elect Bonnie, regardless what extra-curriculars she was involved in or volunteer work she was doing. It was a prejudice, elitist, and classist display that the entire town reveled in. Bonnie would have no part in it, but she wouldn't spoil the fun for her friends.

"Who's that girl with Matt?" Caroline questioned. Elena and Bonnie followed her line of sight to find Matt approaching with an extremely beautiful girl hanging off of him. A girl with hair blacker than the Arctic Sea, skin like fresh snow, and a face so sharp it could cut ice. She had a firm grip on Matt's arm and was laughing like he'd just told the funniest joke _ever_. Elena turned back around. Bonnie could hear Caroline ask if she was going to be okay. Elena had only broken up with Matt about a month ago, and their group was just now regaining it's footing. Bonnie was still watching Matt and his girl approach when she noticed something odd. The girl walked weird. Bonnie worried she was being critical because of her friend, but no—the girl definitely walked weird. She walked with—not quite a limp—but some sort of hop or skip in each of her steps.

"Hey, guys. This is Emma." Matt stated simply, taking a seat next to Caroline. Bonnie gave a small wave but her smile was forced. She knew it wasn't reasonable to begrudge Matt having a girlfriend, considering Elena dumped him, but he'd been in love with Elena—they hadn't even heard the name Emma leave Matt's mouth before that moment. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did he bring her? Bonnie thought.

"Good afternoon." Emma said. Her demure tone of voice was a shock to everyone, as was her slight accent. She spoke like a world-traveler who had been everywhere and picked up a piece of every culture. Though her voice was soft and supple, her features were anything but. Up close Bonnie could see the incredible harshness with which her features presented themselves. She looked like she'd been chiseled from stone.

"So!" Caroline began, attempting to break the table from the awkward silence that had descended suddenly. "Emma I've never seen you around school before. Did you just move here?" She asked kindly, sounding genuinely interested.

Emma took her time to reply, letting the question hang in the air until she was ready to respond. "Yes. My family is nomadic. We never stay anywhere for longer than a few months." While she was speaking her gaze shifted subtly to Elena, who wasn't fully engaged in the conversation but rather was attempting to dissect the food on her plate.

"So are your parents in the military or…?" Caroline inquired, obviously confused by Emma's use of the term _nomadic_. Emma shook her head, tossing her ebony curls around gently. Matt watched her with obvious rapture.

"I have no parents." She stated, neither sad nor indifferent. Elena finally looked up. Pity began to permeate the air.

"Oh. I'm sorry about that." Caroline said, her can-do attitude effectively drenched. Matt still seemed to be gazing at Emma with blind wonder, but Elena had put down her fork and now seemed to care about the conversation again.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. My parents just passed away." She revealed, her voice filled with of sorrow and abject wonderment—like she still couldn't believe she had to admit something of that nature. Her need for camaraderie and understanding were palpable, but Emma could not fulfill those desires it seemed. She regarded Elena with cold disinterest, bordering on disdain, and gave no reply.

The rest of lunch took place under the guise of civility and innocent conversation. Caroline made no further efforts to involve Emma—in fact, Matt and Emma ended up having their own conversation entirely. Elena's mood fell into one of grief and desolation—she would not speak. Bonnie was just done with the whole day. Her lethargy had roared its fuzzy head and she wondered whether she should skip the rest of her classes.

When the bell rang signaling the end of lunch she made her decision—she would stick it out for the rest of the day.

 _ **Charon**_

This was a path Charon had traversed many times. There is never a shortage of souls needing to be carried across the River Styx, and as long as they have the proper payment, Charon is willing to take them.

He pressed his long oar into the murky water and began his journey into the underworld. On the shore he left the millions of souls who did not have payment, or were not given proper burials. The men and women and children who had died and never been buried could not earn passage onto Charon's boat. They would spend the rest of eternity waiting on that shore—denied an afterlife. No exceptions.

Charon paid little attention to the attractions he passed on his way. There was Sisyphus, who punishment entailed laboring to roll a giant stone up a hill, only to have it roll back down again and again until the end of time. In the distance, up ahead, he could see the three Erinyes—the female embodiments of vengeance that carry out punishments in the Underworld—circling a man tied to a wooden stake. They took turns whipping his flesh, breaking the raw, bloodied skin and then watching with pleasure as it grew back again.

Charon pulled his boat up to the bank of the river and motioned for the souls in the back to get out. The path that led up and away from the bank would take them to be judged. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus—the three judges—would separate the wicked from the blessed, and send every soul down one of three paths. One path led to Elysium, and the Isle of the Blessed; the other led to Erebus, and the Fields of Punishment; the middle path led to the Fields of Asphodel.

One poor soul lost their footing getting off the boat and slipped into the waters of the river. Within seconds they were carried off, their screams drowned out by the hateful waters. Charon couldn't bring himself to care. He grabbed the paddle and pushed off from the bank, anxious to get to his destination.

When the River Styx merged with the River Acheron, Charon knew it was time to depart. He drew the boat up onto the shore of the river and stepped out. Gripping the hull of the boat, careful not to let the droplets of water clinging to the wood touch his skin, he drags it onto dry land. When he is finished he leaves on foot. Within minutes he is under the black shadow of his master's home—a castle composed wholly of obsidian that towers above any other structure in the Underworld. The trek to the front door is almost ten minutes.

He knocks and the door opens of it's own accord. He walks in and waits silently by the entrance, knowing his master is aware of his presence and will make himself known any moment. That he does.

Hades emerges from the darkness under the staircase, his helm placed squarely on his head. Hades' helm allows him to not only become darkness, but also travel through it. _Wherever there is light, there is shadow and there is Hades_ , Charon thought. Charon bowed low, his spine curving like a bow.

Hades smiled. "Charlie, Charlie. How was your first day at school? How's my girl?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**138 B.C.**_

" _You will return her at once."_

" _I will not." Hades replied, his tone easy and cool. He had come to Olympus as a courtesy—because his brother had asked him to—and he was now beginning to think that he'd lucked out getting the Underworld. At least his family wasn't there to annoy him._

" _Hades!" Zeus shouted, disturbing the birds perched precariously on the edge of the pavilion. They all leapt into the air at once; their flapping wings and nervous cawing subtracting from the seriousness of the discussion. "Have you no knowledge of what Demeter has done?" Zeus questioned, his voice crackling through the still air._

 _Hades knew better than anyone how Demeter had followed through on her threat. Following Persephone's departure, the world of the living had seen no joy. Famine raged in every village. A thin, yet-impenetrable layer of ice covered every inch of plain and grassland. Women had taken to vows of abstinence and celibacy, in an effort to spare potential children the pain of starvation. Hades had welcomed a hoard of newly dead into his domain with open arms._

" _Demeter's doings are none of my concern." Hades delivered his reply gently, but Zeus didn't miss the note of condescension present in his tone. A split second passed—_ _ **BOOM**_ _—the smell of burnt hair filled the space. Hades rolled on the ground, racked with pain._

" _Then make it your concern." Zeus commanded, suddenly icy and remote. When Hades had finally gathered back his strength he thrust out one hand—fingers splayed wide—and watched as his brother froze. Zeus stood, immobile, in the center of the pavilion. His eyes, which maintained their autonomy, bore holes into Hades. Hades stood up, gathered himself, and made his way over to his brother._

" _You've made a game out of raping young girls and fathering illegitimate children. Yet our sister stands by you still." He whispered, drawing nearer to his motionless victim. Zeus was obviously trying to break Hades hold on him, and Hades knew that in a moment he would. He place one hand on the back of his younger brother's neck and closed his eyes. He breathed in the fresh air, and then gave Zeus an inkling of the pain that might have awaited him had he been a mortal subject to the judges in the Underworld. Using his mind he sent a surge of utter anguish and sorrow through his hand and into his brother, then watched with pleasure as Zeus' eyes rolled into the back of his head._

" _Why should you get to spend eternity with your love, and not me?" Hades questioned, the words thrashing his tongue and mouth on the way out. It was an honest question, but Zeus never got the chance to answer it._

" _Stop."_

 _Hades had no time to turn before his body was being hurled into a pillar on the opposite end of the pavilion. The resulting crack was loud enough to deafen a mere mortal._

 _Hera stood proudly above Zeus, her back straight and her face filled with its usual indignancy and malice. Who she was directing it at, Hades was unsure. Zeus lay unconscious at her feet. She stepped over him impolitely, as if he were a bug she didn't wish to kill because he might dirty her shoe. Imbued with all the grace of a Queen, she traversed the pavilion floor over to Hades. When she had reached him she stooped carefully, collecting the fabric of her dress in front of her and sweeping her warm, bronze hair behind one shoulder. Hades regarded her with cold contempt._

" _You will bring the girl here in one fortnight, on the eve of the summer solstice. The others will gather as well, and we shall come to a conclusion about the appropriateness of your union." Hera instructed, leaving no notion alive that Hades had the choice to disobey. "If you do not bring her," she warned, moving her poisonous green eyes across Hades face, "I swear on the River Styx to deliver you such torment as you have never witnessed, even in the shallow confines of your dark world." She assured, her gaze empty of love or pity._

 _Hades looked away from his sister. He was not afraid, for Hera had been delivering him torment since the day their father vomited them all back into existence—but her threat roused something in him. A certain protectiveness that he had never quite felt before. Perhaps he was incapable of being harmed, but what about his love? What lengths would Hera go to hurt him?_

 _Hera watched Hades silently for a moment and then got up. "Go. Before he wakes." She said, gesturing to Zeus, still laid out on the floor. "Tell Perse that Auntie Hera says hello." Her voice suddenly switched into one of vague pleasantry. She made as though to leave and then turned back around._

" _And brother—" she said, rousing Hades attention once more, "don't ever speak of my husband or marriage as though you understand the intricacies of a living, beating heart. You have no idea Hades, none at all." For a moment her face sank, all of the assurance present only a moment ago drained away. Then she disappeared—in a puff of purple smoke that smelled just like a freshly cleaned house._

 **Present**

If Bonnie wasn't sure that there was something up with the girl before, she was certain then. She stood motionless before an open girls' bathroom stall—shocked beyond reason. There, in front of her, was Emma, Matt's new girlfriend—poised awkwardly atop the toilet. Except, she wasn't quite _a_ _girl._ At least not a human one, Bonnie thought.

Emma was perfect—all angles and sharp lines—from the waist up. She looked like she'd been chiseled by a master sculptor; made meticulously from raw marble. But as Bonnie's eyes unconsciously drifted lower a strange sight greeted her. Bonnie blinked hard.

One of Emma's legs was covered in thick, dark curly hair—and not the kind you get from forgetting to shave once or twice. This was full-fledged _wool_. Her other leg glinted harshly in the florescent bathroom lights, and looked like it had been carved from a block of solid gold.

At first Emma looked surprised, like any girl who'd just been walked in on while taking a piss. Then, when she took in Bonnie's horrified expression she looked down. Bonnie wondered if perhaps this was the first time Emma was seeing this as well. Emma looked back up, her hard features somehow scrunched up in confusion. Then, she began to look angry. Very, very angry.

"Out!" Emma screech, her voice an octave or two higher than humanly possible. Bonnie stumbled backwards, her hands over her ears. "Get OUT!" Emma droned. She stood and Bonnie could see that while her golden leg resembled that of a human being, her furrier appendage bent at an angle too low to pass for human. That explained the limp. Emma pulled up her pants and stormed out of the stall.

Bonnie couldn't bring herself to move. She stood with her back press to the door, but her body would not—or could not—respond to her commands. As much as she wanted to leave her body wouldn't let her. Emma stood in front of the stall Bonnie had busted into only moments ago. Her entire body looked unnatural to Bonnie now. The seemingly beautiful hard angles of her face now appeared sharp enough to cut. Her eyes and hair looked too dark—abnormally dark—for her light skin tone. She looked _scary_.

"Oh?" Emma said, cocking her head to the side in the same manner as a large bug. "You don't want to go? You want to stay little Bonnie?" She asked in that accent of her, stepping closer and closer with every word. This was not the Emma that Bonnie had had lunch with everyday for the past month. "Well, alright. I had my sights on the boy, but I guess I'll have you instead." She reasoned.

Bonnie's mind took a moment to catch up, and when it did, a jolt of fear ran through her for Matt. And then another surge passed through for herself. Emma's eyes had emptied of all light. She opened her mouth to speak again and Bonnie noted her incredibly sharp teeth for the first time. "Actually, I think I'll have you both." Emma's voice dripped with dreadful mirth. She lunged for Bonnie, hands outstretched and eyes wide. Bonnie was sure, in that moment, that she would die. She didn't however—instead, she fell.

The door had opened up behind her suddenly giving her nothing to support herself with. She tumbled out of the bathroom. The hallway was completely empty save the boy standing above her. Charlie Parker, the not-so-new kid.

Emma had stopped in her tracks. She looked confused again, and so did Bonnie. Charlie didn't make any moves toward Emma. He stood stoically next to the fallen Bonnie, doing nothing. Or _appearing_ to do nothing. However, as Bonnie watched, he seemed to transform in front of her. His transformation was no less frightening to her than Emma, but it brought her a sliver of comfort to see Emma begin to shrink away.

Charlie grew taller—taller than any boy in Mystic Falls High School. His unkempt hair grew long and a sizable beard took its rightful place on his face. His skin, which had been overly tight before, began to sink and sag until he resembled a much older man. Even his clothes changed, his jacket morphing into a long, pale robe. Emma and Bonnie observed his conversion in fear and awe.

And then Charlie spoke, in a voice much too deep for a teenage boy. "Empousai, patronee of Hecate, sister to the Lamiae and the Mormolyceae, you shall not harm this woman."

His word seemed final, even to Bonnie, who had no idea what any of it meant. Emma fumed in the doorway of the bathroom, her hands clenched into tight fists. "By whose decree?" She questioned, looking back and forth between Bonnie and Charlie as though she could figure out the answer to that question herself.

"Hades, the master of your mistress and all the dead." Charlie intoned solemnly.

Emma's anger seemed to drain out of her. She rocked on her feet as though she wanted to take a step back but had too much pride to do so. She looked down at Bonnie, her gaze now curious more than anything else. Then, without another word, she stormed off—being sure to step carefully over the girl still played out on the hallway floor. Bonnie, in spite of all her fear, was lucid enough to notice Emma's fly had been left undone. If she'd had the thought to, she would have smiled.

Bonnie watched Emma until she turned the corner at the end of the hall, and then turned back to Charlie. She did a double take. He'd reverted back to his original form—that of a dirty, sallow teenage boy. He held out his bony hand to her silently. Bonnie took it and helped herself up, but she let go just as soon as she could.

"If you would…?" He asked, gesturing down the hall, opposite from where Emma had gone. He began to move and Bonnie followed him, half of her focus on Charlie's face and the other half on putting one foot in front of the other.

"What was that?" She asked, void of any emotion or feeling. Every time Bonnie closed her eyes she found herself back in the clearing. _Blink_ —there's Amana laid out on the grass, lifeless. _Blink_ —there's a flash of blinding light. _Blink_ —there's Lamia turning into dust and being blown away. _Blink_ —there's the man in black, crouched down beside her, his eyes searching for something in her face.

"That was a very bad woman. She wanted to hurt you." Charlie said simply, directing Bonnie down yet another corridor. Bonnie had enough consciousness to be offended at his patronizing, but not enough to protest.

"What would she have done?" She asked breathily.

Charlie didn't miss a beat. "She would have drained you of your blood and then proceeded to eat your flesh." He explained as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world. Bonnie kept walking, but she felt woozy. Then the rush of fear came back.

"Matt!" She said, remembering suddenly. She turned to Charlie, who was still steering her down hallway after hallway. "She said she was planning on hurting my friend." Bonnie told Charlie, her chest tight. She didn't exactly know why she was allowing Charlie to lead her. She didn't know him well at all. Truthfully, the only times she'd been aware of his presence at school was when she caught his sunken, dead eyes staring at her from across hallways and classrooms.

Charlie kept his gaze forward and his grasp on Bonnie light. "Your friend is under no ordinance of protection to my knowledge, but my assumption is that the empousai will be leaving the school without her meal today." He answered, not quite assuring Bonnie but not quite dismissing her either. He stopped and gestured to a door.

He'd brought Bonnie to her class. "I must go."

Bonnie looked through the narrow window on the door at all of the students inside. How could she go in and pretend that everything was fine? How could she suppress the overwhelming feeling inside of her that things were _not going to be_ _okay_? She looked at Charlie, more fearfully than she had looked at Emma, and contemplated asking him to stay with her. In the end she didn't, because when she thought about it, he presented just as much of a threat as the _empousai_ did. If snake-ladies and half-metal, half-donkey vampires were roaming around, what was Charlie?

Charlie didn't wait for her to come to a decision. Instead he bowed, just like he had when he'd caught her a few weeks ago, and turned to leave.

"Charlie?" Bonnie called out, suddenly and inexplicably feeling as though it were not appropriate to call him by this name. "Thank you. I appreciate you saving me from being eaten." She said honestly. She felt like she'd been saying a lot of _thank you_ 's recently.

Charlie assumed his dutiful air, and for a moment it seemed as though he may salute her. "My honor, your highness." He said. Then he left, leaving Bonnie to decipher his words alone in the wide, empty hallway.

 **Present**

Emma stood next to a large tree, only several meters from the table she'd been eating lunch at everyday with those stinking mortals. She'd been waiting for the right time to make her move on the boy without drawing suspicion to her or the rest of the group. That plan was moot now. Her and the group would need to pack up and move somewhere new. She didn't know why Charon was hanging around, disguised as a human teenager, but she was guessing it wasn't for anything good. Still, she needed to inform her mistress of the day's events.

She hit the redial on her flip phone and pressed the green 'Call' button. She'd only ever used this phone to reach one person. The phone ringed once, then twice, and then another two times. Emma sighed at her mistress' voicemail message began to play.

"Hello." Said a shrill, dry voice. "You've reached Hecate. I can't come to the phone right now because I'm currently in the middle of something, but leave a message if you'd like. If this is Hermes then FUCK OFF!" Her delightful message ended with a long beep.

"Mistress and companion, I bring news. Something is about—" Emma stopped abruptly and lurched forward. She looked down and found the metal tip of what looked to be a dagger spouting from her chest. Her blood drained freely from her body, producing an ever-growing black puddle on the ground. She sucked in what would be her last breath and felt the blade slip out of her chest. She crouched down, her hands sinking into her own blood, and craned her head to look behind her.

There, wiping his dirty blade on a clean piece of cloth was Hades. She had never seen the god so close before, and his beauty was even more terrible than she had dared imagine. Behind him, standing still, was Charon in his true form. He looked like the impossibly old man that he truly was. Emma's vision of the two dimmed and eventually faded into nothingness. She died.

Hades ducked down and picked up her phone, which was half submerged in dark blood. He quickly crushed it in his grasp. He dropped the phone, which was now several disconnected pieces, sheathed his dagger and turned to face Charon.

Charon, breaking his silence, said, "Her group, upon noticing her disappearance, will contact Hecate. She'll come looking for answers. If she sees the girl, she'll know. She'll be in touch with Demeter immediately."

Charon merely voiced the thoughts swirling in Hades own mind. Hades nodded, his thoughts moving quickly to find a solution. When he'd come to his conclusion, he smiled simply.

"It seems I'll be joining you in your studies here Charlie." He said, his gaze moving over to the school building. Hades knew she was inside—he could sense her closeness and it stimulated him. The very idea of being in the same room as her set his blood ablaze. Charon watched his boss warily, thinking of what the coming months would bring.

He'd been alive for a very, very long time. Not as long as the titans, or even the gods of Olympus, but many eons had passed since he'd begun to exist. He knew with certainty that his boss' continued presence in the world of the living would eventually draw the eyes of the other gods. History was, in his opinion, in danger of repeating itself. But he couldn't bring himself to rain on Hades' parade. He'd been a witness to the devastation that racked the god of the dead when he'd been deprived of his love centuries ago. Perhaps this time would be different.

Perhaps.


	5. Chapter 5

**138 B.C.**

 _So many days had passed. Too many to count, it seemed to Persephone._

 _At first she'd schemed and plotted, used every available opportunity to escape. Oh, she'd been so hopeful. She had wandered in every conceivable direction and found nothing resembling an exit. It always ended the same way—Hades, appearing out of the darkness once she'd grown so tired she could walk no more, his hand outstretched and waiting. For weeks they went back and forth, her running and him chasing, patiently._

 _She'd refused to eat. She couldn't starve to death, given that she was an immortal, but she knew that after enough time her body would begin to shrink and emaciate. She knew that Hades loved her dearly, and that it would hurt him to see her that way—in pain. So she refused meal after meal, gleaning in each instance a small sliver of satisfaction, even as her ribs began to peek from her sides._

 _It was during one such meal—who's to say whether it was dinner or breakfast, given there was no sun—that Hades found his tongue. During Persephone's time there he'd said very little to her directly. She found that anything she might need, to bathe or dress, appeared in her armoire. She'd been given her own room and study, which was somewhat secluded from the rest of the house. Hades had not ventured into her living area even once. She'd wondered, as they were walking back from where she'd run off to one day, how he knew she was gone. How did he always know she'd left the castle? The King of the Underworld must know of everything that happens in his domain, she'd concluded. And so it came to be that Persephone never smiled. Not even when she was alone, traversing the damp, humid jewel garden; which had been made to resemble an actual garden. Unfortunately, an array of rubies, however intricately composed, could not compare to a poppy, or a rose. And the attempt to make flowers out of stones seemed desperate, and sad; the lame attempt of a man who knows nothing of the world above._

" _You grow thinner everyday." Hades noted, his gaze flickering unsteadily between her and her plate of untouched food. Persephone, shocked, looked away from what had become her window; outside it was an image of smoke billowing up from the Fields of Punishment._

" _There are no days. Isn't that the point? There is only one eternal, hellish day meant to constitute an existence here." She pointed out, some of her hair falling in her face. Before Hades had swept her up, or rather down, she'd had her mother do her hair for her. Every morning Demeter would twist up her endless brown curls and twist them into a pile on top of her head, taking the time to place flowers here and there. Since coming here she'd neglected her hair, and even considered cutting it off. There was no reason for beauty or vanity in a place like this, with a man like him._

 _He drank silently from his cup. Some wine or ambrosia, Persephone assumed. When done, he slowly set down his glass, gently placing it on the black, reflective table. She watched him, growing more upset with each of his languorous movements._

" _Are you not hungry?" He asked. He was not pleasant, nor was he aggressive or presumptuous. He was simply asking, it seemed, out of genuine interest._

 _Persephone ignored his inquiry because, as it so happened, she was ravenous. Weeks of no food or drink had left her with a permanent ache in her midsection, which tore and gnawed at her insides. She could not linger too long on the presence of her hunger or it would rear its spiked head, more fierce for having been acknowledged._

" _How easily you drink your wine, my Lord. Do you feel no remorse, no sentiment of shame or repentance for your crimes?" She rebuked him, her voice cool and detached. He met her eyes with an unflinching certainty, which she returned in kind, and proceeded to avoid her question in much the same way she'd avoided his._

" _There is no need for formality. You may call me Hades." He replied._

 _Persephone stood from her chair, avoiding Hades intense, tracking stare._

" _You may not call me anything." She said, turning around, the folds of her dress creased between her fingertips._

" _Will you continue to run?" He asked from behind her, a lilt present in his tone that suggested he was teasing her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of turning back around._

" _For as long as I live, I shall never be yours." Persephone had paused by the door, but now continued her exit._

 _She thought she'd heard him respond, "No matter, for I am yours." Quietly, to himself._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hecate,**_ _ **or**_ _ **Hekate,**_ _ **is a goddess in Ancient Greek religion and mythology. Most often she is shown holding two torches or a key, and in later periods she is depicted in triple form. She was variously associated with crossroads, entranceways, dogs, light, the moon, magic, witchcraft, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery.**_

Bonnie rubbed her watery eyes absentmindedly and continued scrolling through the Wikipedia webpage. She was trying her best to make sense of Charlie's words, but she'd had a hard enough time trying to Google what the _Mormolyceae_ were, given that she could barely spell it. It turned out the Mormolyceae were a type of she-demon found in Greek mythology.

As far as Bonnie could tell they were the modern-day equivalent of vampires, and they used their otherworldly beauty to lure in unsuspecting victims. Along with the mormo—as Bonnie had come to refer to them—Charlie had also mentioned the empusae and lamiae. An empousai had a face of a goddess, a leg of a donkey, and a leg made of brass. Bonnie could clearly remember Emma hunched over the toilet, her face scrunched up in surprise, one of her legs gleaming like a freshly polished trumpet. There had been something so _off_ , so _unnatural_ about her from the beginning. Bonnie wondered why she hadn't paid attention more.

 _ **The lamiae are descendants of Lamia, a she-demon with a serpent's tail instead of legs. The myth of Lamia goes that she was once a beautiful queen, but she invoked the wrath of the goddess Hera by taking her husband, Zeus, as a lover. Hera, in return, killed Lamia's children and cursed her. Lamia's grief over the loss of her children, and disgust at her new form, drove her to madness. It is said she seeks out young children and devours them in a twisted attempt to regain what she once had, but lost.**_

The memory that sprang to her mind was fuzzy around the edges, like a picture out-of-focus. Time had dulled the clarity of his words, but with a bit of effort she could hear the man in black.

 _Lamia—still after children I see._

He'd mentioned Hera, and how she would never let the snake-demon keep the child. Bonnie glanced back at the webpage. So Lamia wasn't going to devour Amana, she was going to—raise her?

 _Just think, what kind of mother would you make?_ He had asked her, so condescendingly and without remorse. Now that Bonnie knew the truth of the situation her heart ached. Lamia had been wrong to take Amana, but she was compelled by something deeper than hunger or want. She missed her babies.

Bonnie closed her laptop and left her room. It was after midnight and the house was quiet, the lights turned down low where they weren't off. She went into the kitchen and started fixing herself a glass of water.

So she'd had two separate experiences with demons that seemed to have jumped straight out of a Greek mythology textbook. What did that mean? Perhaps it was the area, she pondered. Was it possible that Mystic Falls was a hotspot for murderous cannibals and snake-ladies with baby fever? Or was it Bonnie that was attracting all the trouble?

And if so, how could she make it stop?

 **Kai**

"Kai Parker, joining us a little late in the semester, but that's OK." The woman at the front desk proclaimed. She reached a hand holding a stack of papers out to him—presumably his schedule and a crudely drawn, photocopied map of the school. He took it politely. "You've got your brother here and I'm sure he'll get you accustomed in no time. Soon you'll be navigating this school like a PRO." She exclaimed, her eyes bulging behind red cat-eye glasses.

The corner of Hades' mouth slanted easily. "Yes, I'm sure I will." He stepped away and into the crowded hallway, filled with adolescents.

He had noted a small mole at the base of the receptionist's neck, and dryness around the edges of her mouth. He'd been around the dead and the dying long enough to know when someone was on their way to his domain. He could have told her she had cancer, but chances were she'd find out soon enough. Plus, his presence in this human cesspool of youth would draw enough attention as it was, without him predicting people's deaths. The normal, average teen couldn't do that, and that's what he needed to pass as.

At least for now.

He approached Charon, who was leaning against a set of lockers. The other students gave Charon a wide berth, deliberately going out of their way to put distance between him and themselves. Huh. Hades had never thought of Charon as frightening, but then again humans were afraid of almost everything.

"Over there." Charon said, after standing up straight and bowing his head to his master. He jerked his head and Hades let his gaze follow in that direction.

She stood talking to two other girls, a modest smile gracing her face. Just then she nodded, her smile expanding into a genuine grin of happiness. Hades felt his heart do something strange—a sudden jerking movement that forced the breath out of his body. It had not done that in millennia. He'd almost forgotten he had a heart.

She was astounding.

Charon had reported that her name was Bonnie. Bonnie? He had rolled it around his mouth for a few days, testing it out and gauging how it felt on his tongue. It was—

 **BRIIIIINNNNGGGGG!**

—different, to say the least.

"What is that?" Hades asked, perturbed by the harsh interruption to his thoughts. He watched as all the students ceased milling around and began to walk with purpose. Bonnie and her friends were suddenly lost in the shuffle and bustle.

"It alerts the children that lessons are about to begin. They are all meant to be inside the classrooms before the next toll." Charon explained. He wasn't as enraptured by the menial procession as Hades, but that was because he had seen it countless times, everyday, for the past month. "Come master. Lateness is frowned upon by this institution."

Hades' face took on a wry expression as he followed behind Charon. For someone who never died there was no such thing as late—only _now_ , and _not now_.

 **Bonnie**

"Elena, who was that guy I saw you talking to outside the bathroom?" Caroline questioned, her voice attempting to downplay her obvious interest.

Elena shrugged. "I don't know. He bumped into me while I was coming out."

"Why doesn't anyone that cute ever bump into me?" Caroline whined under her breath.

"One day Caroline. One day." Bonnie assured her friend while shaking her head. She opened her history book and thumbed through it, looking for the chapter they'd be discussing that day, when she heard several gasps. She looked up to find both Elena and Caroline, with mouths open, staring past her.

She felt a shiver pass over the skin of her neck as the hairs stood on edge. She turned, slowly, aware on an unconscious level that whatever she found would not be good. When Bonnie's eyes registered the boy in black standing at the door, she couldn't be sure whether she'd been right.

His gaze met hers and he smiled. It was a smile she had never seen before on anyone else—like the shadow of a knife as it's raised above someone's head, just before it pierces something soft and fleshy. The fact that it seemed to be directed towards her and no one else was cause for grave concern. Bonnie clutched her stomach as it began to churn in angst.

"Damn." Caroline mumbled lowly, watching as the boy in black strolled in and over to a seat. Charlie followed behind him, eyes casting about every which way. He took a seat behind the boy, in his normal spot.

Mr. Saltzman came in and immediately started taking roll. Bonnie was barely listening as her mind was trying to piece together everything that had seemed disconnected up until this point.

So Charlie, the old man/teenage boy who'd saved her from an empousai attempting to eat her, knew the boy-in-black, who'd saved her from Lamia, the snake-demon who'd kidnapped her cousin Amana. Which meant that those two situations _were not random_ , and yet it seemed the only common factor was her.

" _Another_ new student?" Mr. Saltzman said, looking down at the attendance sheet in surprise. "Kai Parker?" He asked, looking around. Bonnie watched, along with everyone else, as the boy-in-black raised one finger in the air nonchalantly.

"Alright well, welcome. Your brother," Mr. Saltzman looked to Charlie and frowned, undoubtedly noticing the distinct difference in their appearances, then continued, "has been a wonderful addition to our class. I'm sure you will too."

Kai smiled that smile again, his eyes flickering over to Bonnie unapologetically, "I certainly will. Thank you."

 **138 B.C.**

 _Demeter ran a hand through her braids, pushing them impatiently out of her face. She stood out in the open, the summer sun's unrelenting heat baking her charcoal skin even blacker._

 _She'd been waiting for hours, and was beginning to consider that her message hadn't been received, when a woman appeared in the road. One moment there had been nothing, and then there she was. She was half Demeter's height, and her skin was the palest white imaginable._

" _You sent for me?" The woman asked, bringing up a hand to cover her face from the harsh light. Her voice was small, like her, but full of perceived authority._

" _You're aware of the meeting to take place on Olympus in three days time?" Demeter asked, walking closer so she wouldn't have to raise her voice. She could never be sure who was listening._

 _The woman nodded and hummed. "Yes, yes. Everyone's heard. Hades wishes to marry little Perse and has her cooped up in the Underworld, where no one can get to her—despite their best efforts." She said, somewhat amused by the whole ordeal. Demeter did not share her cavalier perspective._

" _I don't mean for my brothers and sisters to decide my daughter's future. Fate is for the Moirai and the Moirai alone. I mean to do something that is not necessarily within my means, and so I will need your assistance." Demeter proposed._

 _Hecate ceased fanning herself and placed a finger underneath her chin, thoughtfully. She looked like mischief incarnate, but she was the only one with magic strong enough to do what Demeter needed doing._

 _Hecate smiled wickedly as a breeze picked up stray strands of her raven hair. "How can I help?"_


	7. Chapter 7

**138 B.C.**

" _Magic of this kind requires great sacrifice." Hecate warned. She was lit by two flaming sconces, placed at equal distances on either side of the room, but her obsidian mane sucked light from the air like a living shadow. Her hands worked quickly inside a grand, marble mortar—breaking apart tiny animal bones and squeezing gray organs into a workable paste. "To save your daughter from a life of darkness, you must be willing to lose her forever." Hecate removed her hands from the massive bowl and picked up her glass of wine. As she brought it to her lips, Demeter grimaced._

" _I understand, and I'm willing. Persephone may no longer be a goddess but she'll live, nevertheless. She'll thrive. She'll have the opportunity to fall in love, to give birth, to experience the spring season a thousand times over. And I shall see her, when I so desire—even if I cannot speak to her, or hold her in my grasp." Demeter paused, her gaze lost in the hazy, mysterious glop Hecate was stirring. "She'll be free." She said wistfully._

" _Yes, as free as any mortal can be—constrained as they are by death and sickness and rotting flesh." Hecate added, a satisfied smirk appearing as Demeter snapped out of her reverie. "I'll need that dirt now."_

 _Demeter reached a hand into the depths of her gown and emerged gripping an ornate red-clay vase. She popped off the lid and handed it to Hecate, who promptly dumped the contents into the mortar. She stirred and whistled a skippy tune._

" _Dirt from a sallow field. Spleen of a one-year ox. Bones of a sparrow. Water from the Atalanta Spring. Let's see…" Hecate walked away from the mortar to another table, mumbling to herself. She came behind Demeter and whispered cheerfully, "Hair of the mother." She grasped a braid from the nape of Demeter's neck and cut it at the root with a short knife, swift and sure._

 _Hecate threw it into the mixture. "Almost done. Then we can begin with the sleeping—" She was interrupted by the door opening. Demeter and Hecate turned quickly to see a man standing tall in the doorway, one hand pressed against the frame to hold himself up. The cherubic golden curls and slinky build could have belonged to anyone, but the sly, deceitful smile he wore with confidence was his trademark alone._

" _Hello ladies, you look busy. Shall I come back later?" Hermes asked, feigning genuine distress. Hecate rushed to the door, her tiny legs carrying her as quickly as physically possible. She leaned forward upon entering his vicinity, and he returned the gesture, as though their bodies were magnets being pulled toward the other unrelentingly. Demeter watched with ultimate distaste._

 _Hecate pulled the door to close off the room from Hermes' sight. "Yes, Bird. We are currently occupied by matters outside of your understanding. You'll have to find someone else to entertain you." She taunted.  
_

 _Hermes leaned down a bit so she wouldn't have to crane her neck as much, and replied, "I've been around the block for an epoch or two. Try me little girl."_

 _Hecate's eyes darkened and crackled with sudden energy. Without warning the wings on either side of Hermes' shoes lit up in flames. He jumped away from her in surprise, twisting and jerking to put out the fire and take off his shoes simultaneously._

" _You go too far." She chided, but her cheeks glowed dull pink with suppressed laughter. Hecate shut the door without an inkling of guilt. She could hear him rumbling and grumbling on the other side—something about little demons._

 _Hecate walked back to the mortar, aware of Demeter's judgmental stare. Demeter fixed her features into one of disinterest, but couldn't resist saying, "You two have been going back and forth for the last century. Perhaps it's time for you to decide if you love him or hate him."_

 _Hecate settled in to begin the spoken portion of the spell, but shot Demeter an off-hand glance. "It's your daughter's love life you're trying to interfere with, not mine. Remember?" She didn't give Demeter an opportunity to reply; rather she slipped into the primordial language of magic, which was her first tongue._

 **Present**

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Bonnie started, confused as to where the time had gone. She rushed to gather her things and follow her friends out into the hallway. With all her might she tried not to glance behind her, but ultimately failed. There the boy-in-black stood, shadowed by a slouching Charlie, his face turned in her direction but his eyes cast downward at a piece of paper. Bonnie was once again struck by how different he looked.

That night in the clearing he'd easily been in his mid-twenties, but now he was incontrovertibly a teenager. Actually, the longer she looked at him the more timeless his face seemed. _Oh no_ , Bonnie thought as he glanced up and caught her watching him. His eyes danced with obvious delight and without a moment's hesitation he began walking over to her.

"Hello. Would you mind helping me with this?" He asked courteously, holding out the piece of paper he'd been examining. It was obviously _supposed_ to be a map of the school, but even Bonnie had trouble following the layout. It wasn't remotely proportional, and the person drawing had messed up but hadn't bothered to erase the first attempt.

She nodded, keeping her gaze locked on the paper in his hands. She was going to just pretend she'd never seen him before. That would work, right?

"Where are you trying to get?" She asked, placing her bag back on her desk. She looked up and found Elena and Caroline still at the door waiting for her. Caroline smiled at her encouragingly, which only made Bonnie flush.

"Gym." He replied. _Gym_ , she thought, _how normal_.

"So you're just going to turn left once you get in the hallway, and keep walking until you pass the cafeteria and see the red lockers, and then—" She looked away from the sheet, where she had been pointing out her directions, to find him staring at her. He was closer than she'd realized, and he was looking at her the same way he had that night—his eyes glowing with raw wonderment. They were black and endless, and were sucking her in before she could safeguard herself. Bonnie leaned back, startled.

"And then?" He breathed, leaning forward to close the space between them again, oblivious to her discomfort.

Bonnie grabbed her bag and maneuvered away. She finally saw Charlie, quiet and subdued, standing with his arms behind his back. He wouldn't look up from the floor. She cleared her throat and backed away, "Charlie can probably show you from there." She said.

The boy-in-black—Kai—smiled like a kid who'd pushed his luck and wasn't surprised to find it had run out. He nodded graciously, tucking the folded map into his back pocket.

"Thank you for helping me. This is my first time in school." He explained. Bonnie's eyebrow rose in surprise and Kai's eyes followed it with amusement.

"You were home-schooled?" She asked.

"I suppose." He answered cryptically. Bonnie craned her head around to check if Elena and Caroline were still there. They were, but they had begun their own conversation and weren't paying attention to Bonnie and the new boy.

"How's the girl?"

Bonnie whirled back around to find that he'd encroached into her space once again. She backed up further, feeling prickly under his watchful gaze. "What girl?" She asked.

"The _small_ girl." He put out a level hand to reference a short height. Bonnie's mouth twisted in confusion, and then reluctance. This did not coincide with her plan to pretend nothing had happened. Kai stood, waiting for her reply.

"She's…fine. Healthy." She tacked on, guessing that he wasn't asking about Amana's mental health. Her aunt had called the other day to say that the girl was still having horrible nightmares about being strangled by a snake.

"Good. Hippocrates preached that health is the greatest of all human blessings—and he was one of the few smart men in human history." Kai quipped, walking past her. He looked back, expecting her to follow. Bonnie peeked at Charlie. Although she didn't necessarily like Charlie, he'd been around for a while, and she felt like she trusted him more than the boy-in-black. Or Kai, or whatever. At least she knew that Charlie wasn't going to eat her—he was just a _really old man_. Which was strange and flummoxing, but hardly scary compared to Emma or Lamia. He was no help at all however, as he conspicuously avoided her stare. She sighed and joined Kai as he walked out of the room. Elena and Caroline ceased chatting.

"Matt wants to go out for lunch period today. Any suggestions? Because right now he and Elena both want The Grill and I cannot eat there for the one-hundredth time. I will simply keel over _and die_." Care griped dramatically.

Kai's grin was wicked as he bit his tongue.

Elena rolled her eyes at her friend's antics and grabbed Bonnie's arm. She began pulling her away from the group, in the direction of their next class. Bonnie didn't need to turn back around to know that he was watching her.

"Are you alright?" Elena asked, her concern clear on her face. Bonnie wondered what her own face must look like for her friend to be so worried. She patted Elena's hand.

"Sure. I'm alright." It wasn't quite the truth, but it wasn't a lie either.

* * *

Why in the hell had she agreed to try out for cheerleading? Bonnie couldn't help but question her own sanity as she watched the other girls warm up. The sun illuminated their wildly spinning appendages as they cartwheeled and somersaulted on the soccer field grass. Becca Trinney sank down into a middle split, her thighs shaking like molds of jello.

"I just realized that this is not for me." Bonnie admitted. She stopped lacing up her tennis shoes. _Why bother?_

Elena sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I agree. This just isn't us." She looked distracted, like her mind was somewhere outside her body, traversing another galaxy. Bonnie couldn't blame her, but she wondered when exactly she and her best friend had gotten on two separate pages. Heck, they didn't even seem to be in the same book anymore.

And if that was the case then Caroline wasn't even in the same library. "You guys?!" She whined, watching as Bonnie put back on her flip-flops. "You could at least try! Come on, we're only in high school once! Don't you want put yourselves out there a little?" Her voice was imploring but her face was downright scary. Bonnie wasn't sure they'd be able to get away even if they wanted to.

A shift in the corner of her eye drew her attention away from Elena trying to convince Caroline to let them leave. A group of girls were huddled beneath a tree near the parking lot—the tree Bonnie and her friends usually ate under at lunch. Bonnie couldn't recognize their faces, and they didn't look dressed for try-outs. They were all catastrophically beautiful, however. Each had a perfectly symmetrical face, and though they had different hair and features, there was something oddly similar about all of them. They were looking down at something Bonnie couldn't see.

"—never do what I want to do." Bonnie caught the end of Caroline's rant and turned to find her pouting. A whistle blew somewhere and the other girls stopped twiddling and prancing around. Caroline breathed a sigh of relief, but then tried to cover it up by coughing. "Try-outs are starting and you're already here, so…" She threw up her hands and shrugged. Bonnie and Elena exchanged a pointed glance but relented.

Forty-five minutes later and Bonnie was losing feeling in her right foot and sensed a bruise forming on the side of her abdomen. She hobbled away from the field, coated in a generous, sticky layer of sweat. Becca Trinney followed up behind her, a shallow cut on her knee leaking bright blood. They both plopped down on a metal bench, _hard_.

"We tried right?" Becca asked, out of breath. Bonnie nodded with her eyes closed. "Hey Bon, those girls have been watching us since I got here over an hour ago. Do you think they go here?" Becca asked skeptically, as though she was already sure of the answer, but wanted someone else to share in her uncertainty. Bonnie peeked open an eyelid, though she already knew to whom Becca was referring.

The group of girls hadn't left. In fact, now their focus seemed to be directed towards the soccer field, where tryouts were still taking place.

"No, I've never seen them before today…" Bonnie's voice tapered off as she thought about all the new people who'd come into her life lately. They hadn't turned out to be _people_ at all. That realization sent a shiver through her, but it also made her angry.

Her cousin, at only five years old, was practically losing her sanity because of persistent night terrors. Matt had almost been the dinner of a conniving she-demon, and he'd only been trying to move on from Elena. And Bonnie was being stalked by a gray man-child and his creepy, albeit handsome brother. Enough was _enough_. She needed to know why.

Bonnie stood, aware of how weak her body felt after only an hour of physical exertion, but she shook off the fatigue and started off in the girls' direction. She had closed half the distance when someone slipped into her path. She stopped short and was forced to backtrack. Upon looking up she found a familiar face.

"What _are_ you doing?" Kai asked curiously, his hands clasped calmly behind his back, his head tilted down at her. She swallowed the thick spit that suddenly filled her mouth and shifted on her feet.

"Hi. I was just going to have a talk with these girls." Bonnie pointed past him and they both turned in unison to find an empty space where the girls had been only minutes before. Kai turned back, his upper lip curled under in an attempt to suppress a smile. Bonnie could hardly speak. "…They _were_ there."

He nodded. "Yes, of course." If his eyes hadn't been dancing with unmistakable and irresistible mirth she might have been upset with him for patronizing her.

"I assume you found the gym alright?" She asked. It was weird to make small talk with him. It was like two people having a conversation about breakfast sandwiches inside the belly of a whale. How can you decide if a biscuit or a muffin is better for holding eggs, bacon, and cheese when you've just been swallowed whole?

She was losing it.

"I did. You were right, Charlie could have shown me where it was. I just wanted to hear you say it." Kai confessed. Bonnie floundered for a response, but he didn't seem to need one. Bonnie looked away from his open, searching face. She had been determined for answers only a moment ago, but the girls were gone. _Well_ , she thought, _who better to interrogate than the man-in-black himself?_

"I know what you are." She bluffed, meeting his eyes. The skin of his cheeks pulled back in a subdued smile as he examined her carefully.

" _I know what you are_." He said, mimicked her. Or—no, not mimicking her. He was being genuine. Bonnie was taken aback as she thought about what that might mean.

"And…what is that?"

"You first."

She thought for a moment, trying to find the words that would push this conversation into a place of truth, rather than ego. What did she really think he was? Given all that she'd seen him do, and everything she'd heard Charlie say, and the number of demons that seem to follow his presence. Bonnie set her jaw.

"The devil." She said, convinced of something for the first time in weeks.

He burst out laughing. His head rolled back and she could see his canines, sharp and flinty; and his laugh boomed out of his chest like a drum. She watched, astounded, until he had settled. Kai looked down at her, his green eyes gleaming like fresh poison.

"You're funny … _still_." He whispered the last word, but Bonnie could hear it. "And so clever. However I am not the Devil, Bonnie. Or, not in the sense that you are using the word."

She couldn't wrap her mind around his words. They were nonsensical, and random. Had she been wrong or right? Why could he just say what he meant? Bonnie was tempted to turn and walk away. She hadn't asked for this, or him.

"So what are you then?" She inquired tiredly, her fatigue catching up with her again.

"A god." He whispered conspiratorially. He stooped down in front of her, placing his face level with hers. Bonnie didn't have it in her to move away, and as he spoke she could feel his breath on the edges of her lips. "As are you."

Charon observed the pair from a hundred yards away. His eyebrows lowered and he felt his new, young face crease in an old, familiar way. As the queen withdrew herself from his lord, her face a clear mixture of confusion and fear, she muttered something Charon couldn't hear. She turned away, her feet carrying her quickly to her bag and then off into the distance. Hades stood motionless, looking after her until she had disappeared from sight. Then he began to make his way over to Charon, a faraway look in his eyes.

"The troupe of empusae is gone then?" Hades asked, his face hardening into its usual mask. Charon nodded somberly.

"I informed them that they were to leave and not return, but I did not mention your presence my lord. Though I doubt that they will come back, I believe that the disappearance of their sister will lead them to contact Hecate."

Hades rubbed his neck, deep in thought. "I cannot delay these events any further, Charon. Hecate _will_ come, searching for answers. However, I do not plan to let her leave."

Charon's mind whirled with possibilities. Whatever his master was suggesting, it would not go over well with the other gods. However he did not dissuade Hades from his plan as Charon felt that after eighteen hundred years of loneliness, his master deserved his revenge.

 **138 B.C.**

 _Persephone sat reading in her usual spot. The chair underneath the window in the main foyer had begun to have a Persephone-shaped hole in it. Reading had become her only escape from the bleakness of the underworld. Hades still hadn't permitted her to leave the castle, though she had ceased running off hoping to gain some leniency. She'd done many things in the hope that they would earn her an ounce of freedom._

 _She responded cordially at evening dinner when asked a direct question. She sat out in the open, rather than in her room, while reading. She'd even spent an adequate amount of time in that would-be garden, though the very sight of it made her depressed. What else could she do? The slight chance of being free to roam even the desolate terrain of the underworld filled her with a feeling akin to excitement._

 _Charon entered through the front door and upon sighting her, bowed deeply. She smiled; glad to see a face other than Hades'. Charon was bound to serve Hades for eternity. He was as much trapped here as she was, and that commonality of being unable to escape had lent Charon an amiable vibe to Persephone that he wouldn't normally possess._

" _Your Highness." He greeted._

" _Perse, Charon. Please." She beseeched for the umpteenth time. He nodded but she knew he'd never be that familiar with her. Hades emerged from the darkness of the staircase, as he was wont to do. Persephone promptly went back to reading._

" _You should count yourself lucky, Charon. I am not allowed call her anything at all." Hades joked, glancing over at Persephone to find her studying the pages of her novel. He turned back to Charon. "What is it?"_

 _Charon stepped out of the way to allow another body to enter the home. "You have a guest, my lord."_

 _Persephone's head snapped up in surprise, and her face split in two as delight seeped through her. There had been no guest in all her time there. She hopped off her chair, quick as a lick, and ran to the visitor. They caught her up in large, strong arms._

" _Perse, my favorite cousin!" A thick, joyous voice said, partly muffled by her hair._

 _Charon cleared his throat._

" _Hermes is here to meet with you, my lord."_


	8. Chapter 8

**138 B.C.**

 _Persephone and Hermes broke apart, but his hands lingered by her sides._

" _How are you my little flower?" He asked. Persephone was shocked at how much his presence affected her, at how much it warmed her heart to have someone hold her. She was so moved that she could not speak. A lump had formed in her throat where words should have been, so she just proceeded to throw herself at him. She could not muster an ounce of shame at her behavior, though she knew Hades and Charon were watching. He rubbed her back soothingly._

" _Goodness Hades, how have you been treating the woman?" Hermes joked. Hades looked on from a few meters away, his expression contemplative._

" _Why are you here?" He answered._

 _Hermes disentangled himself from Persephone, who still had her face mashed in his chest. He held her at arms length while addressing Hades._

" _I thought I might offer you a bit of advice." Hermes said, and then, glancing down at Persephone, "Sorry Hun, but this advice is better told in private."_

 _Persephone looked around and realized that Charon had slipped away. She risked a glimpse at Hades and found that for the first time in a long time, he wasn't looking back at her. His attention was on Hermes._

" _Alright." She conceded, looking back and forth between the two as if trying to read their minds. "I'll go. Find me again before you leave." She requested, trailing a hand softly against Hermes face. He grabbed it swiftly and kissed it before letting go._

" _I promise."_

 _Persephone scurried off, her gaze low. She missed the pain on Hades face entirely, but Hermes didn't._

" _You've got it bad." He observed, walking into the study off the foyer. Hades followed quietly._

" _No argument there."_

" _Any progress?"_

 _Hades held in a tired sigh and leaned against the wide window, his arms crossed. "Just now—that's the first I've seen her smile since she arrived."_

 _Hermes chuckled, "You mean since you took her?"_

 _Hades' face was like steel. "State your business or get out." Hermes held up his hands, and then used one to sweep the bronze hair out of his face._

" _This might not be of any use to you, unless you're actually going to attend the meeting on Olympus tomorrow evening."_

 _Hades squinted, "I hadn't planned on it."_

 _Hermes nodded, as if he'd expected as much. Persephone, who stood prone against the wall leading into the study, listened with burning ears. She'd heard nothing of a meeting on Olympus. "Well then you have nothing to worry about it seems." Hermes said, making as if to leave. Persephone hurried away from the door, then paused when she heard Hades voice._

" _And if I was?" He sounded…uneven, to Persephone._

" _Then I would tell you to watch your back. Hecate is colluding with Demeter, I'm not sure to what end precisely—" Hermes was cut off by Hades booming roar._

" _What exactly do you know?" He yelled, the angriest and loudest Persephone had ever heard him. Hermes voice, when it spoke, was gentle and placating._

" _Nothing,_ for sure _. I only spotted some suspicious activity and thought I would give you a heads up."_

" _And why would you do that?" Hades voice was cold now._

" _Because no one else would, and I pride myself on being a man of honor. As well, whatever Hecate is planning I'd like to see it ruined." He admitted the last part hurriedly. Persephone thought she'd heard Hades scoff. "However, it seems this trip was wasted as you aren't even going to the stupid party…" Hermes grumbled._

 _Persephone was floored. A meeting had been called? When? Would her mother be there? The thought of seeing her mother pulled at her heartstrings, plucked at them like a lyre. Oh, how splendid it would be to smell her mother again! The phantom scent of freshly tilled soil and clean grain drove her from her hiding spot, right into the middle of the study. Hermes and Hades stared at her like she was from another planet. She kept her eyes firmly on latter._

" _Yes we are." She declared. She watched as he rose from his slouched position and uncrossed his arms. Slowly, his face transformed into one she'd seen many times before—the face attached to the hand he held out to her before leading her back home from wherever she'd run to._ No, not home _. The face that was both apologetic and unyielding. The face that said both I'm sorry and I'll never let you go. She could not stand to see that face when it stood between her and heart's desires._

" _We're going." She insisted._

" _No." He replied. Persephone could see that he was conflicted. He'd never had to tell her no before, at least not directly. It had always been silent refusals and implied restrictions. Now, it had to be said. More so, she was going to make him scream it before she'd give up on this fight. Hermes, sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere, began to fidget._

" _Well then, I'll just excuse myself." He kissed Persephone on the forehead and waved a hand to Hades. Persephone heard the door slam shut but didn't look away from Hades once. She was sad she hadn't gotten to say a proper goodbye, but was hopeful it wouldn't be goodbye at all. If she got her way, she'd seen him again tomorrow. Hades stepped away from the window, and ordinarily Persephone would have moved back to accommodate his new proximity, but this time she stood her ground._

" _What can I give you? What do you want?" She asked desperately. Honest to gods, this fight would be their first real conversation. She'd never asked him these questions, and she didn't know why not._

 _Hades shook his head. "Persephone we are not going."_

" _WHY?" She screamed. The urge to stomp her foot was so strong she had to grip it with two hands and force it back down._

" _Because they'll say NO!" Hades bellowed. Silence followed his outburst as they both soaked in the fact that he'd just shouted at her. He looked away from her, out the window and into the distance. Shame covered him, condensed and sweet. Persephone thought she understood._

"… _You think that the other gods will decide against you. That they'll vote to take me away from you."_

 _Hades wouldn't look at her, and Persephone found that a strange, secret part of her wanted him to. She wanted him to turn around and read on her face that she understood. Instead, he spoke low under his breath, "I just need more time."_

 _More time for what, Persephone thought. To make her love him? Or did he just need more time with her before he could live with letting her go? How odd and disheartening that Persephone should find herself as the object in a massive game of tug-of-war._

" _I want to see my family. I want to see my mother." She cried, trying to insert as much emotion into her words as possible, which was easy. How could she warm his dead heart and get him to understand?_

" _I'm sorry." He apologized. It hurt Persephone more because she knew that he was genuine. His tortured profile displayed how much it hurt him to hurt her, but Persephone could hardly will herself to care about if he was hurting. She'd damn him to hell, except they were already there._

 _Her resolution to persevere no matter what was dwindling in the face of his single-mindedness and sincerity. He was only afraid of losing her—that was the thing keeping her trapped here. She considered momentarily what it would take to convince him that he didn't need to fear; that even a decision from the other gods wouldn't take her away from him._

 _She sidled up to him where he stood facing the window. Softly, she wrapped her limbs around his torso, sliding her hands underneath his arms and around his front. She felt his chest heave with an influx of air._

" _Persephone." He could only whisper. Gently, she rested her head on his back and sank into him. He felt warmer than she'd expected, and softer too. She could feel his muscles, contracting and sliding underneath the cloth of his robe with each breath._

" _I will not leave you." Her own breath came out hot on his shoulder and she felt him shudder. Despite her obvious effect on him, when he spoke his voice came out clear and loud._

" _We both know that is a lie."_

 _She lifted her head off of him and felt him tense, expecting her to pull away completely. However, she merely moved her face to his neck. She breathed him in—all cloves and dirt and smoke. Then moved her mouth next to his ear, and breathed, "Give me tomorrow, and I'll give you my heart."_

 _Hades was struggling to maintain his composure. Persephone was poised just so, her lips and his skin brushing tantalizingly with every word of hers. His mind was still trying to catch up with the rest of him, and he wondered how Persephone was so good at disabling him. As far as he knew in all her years alive she'd never been with anyone else. A natural talent then._

" _Let me see my family, my mother, and I'll be your queen forever."_

 _Hades closed his eyes and imagined Persephone in his bed. He imagined waking up with her and her smiling over at him, happy. When was the last time she'd been happy? He knew that he could make her happy, but she needed to let him in, give him a chance. This might be that chance. Hades pulled free of her arms and spun around to find a surprised Persephone. He quickly grasped her and pulled her close, felt her body melt into his pleasurably._

" _Is that so?"_

" _Yes." She promised simply. He narrowed his eyes._

" _Then swear it." Hades prompted. Persephone leaned back as much as she could with Hades' hands pressed at the small of her back. She hadn't anticipated that. He watched her, expectantly, waiting to see if she would really swear. Persephone swallowed. She knew there was no hope of going to the meeting unless she swore that she would return to the underworld as his. Her mind went back and forth, trying to determine the disadvantages versus the advantages. Either way, she was stuck there. But if she swore him her heart, she'd be able to see the world above_ tomorrow _. It was too much to resist._

 _His eyes followed her lips as she spoke the words. "I swear on the River Styx to return with you tomorrow. I swear on the River Styx to become your wife. I swear on the River Styx to give you . . . my heart."_

* * *

 **Present**

 _Stay away from me_. Bonnie remembered backing away, walking at first and then running. Yet she couldn't move fast enough to shed the unease clinging to her like a second skin. His words had dug a pit in the base of her stomach, and its dark mouth was stretching wider. When she finally made it home she swung the door shut behind her, breath puffing in and out, droplets of sweat speckled across her forehead.

Her Grams looked up from where she was reading on the couch. Upon noticing her Bonnie stood up straight and tried to regulate her breathing, but her hands were shaking at her sides.

"What happened?" Grams took off her reading glasses and set down her book. Bonnie swallowed hard.

"Nothing. I just left tryouts—they were pretty rough." She replied, placing her backpack by the door and leaving for the kitchen. Grams had continued to study her, but said nothing.

Bonnie wondered if she should have told her about everything. Her Grams was nearing seventy and had carpel tunnel, but she wouldn't hesitate to kick some ass in the name of her granddaughter.

Bonnie wished she had told her when she'd had the chance, because now it seemed she wouldn't be making it home again.

She, Caroline, and Elena had made the cheerleading team—miraculously. So for the past week her afternoons had been spent on the practice field, under a boiling hot sun, screeching out newly learned cheers. Her body ached every night as she sank into a steaming bath. Bonnie had been nearing the end of her patience with the whole endeavor, and the only reason she'd stayed on the team as long as she had was for Caroline.

But Caroline was now unconscious, propped up by a single, bleach-white arm. The girl holding her up kept the edge of a golden knife propped underneath Caroline's chin. Bonnie could see tiny rivulets of blood leaking from where the knife had already pierced the surface of her friend's skin.

The other girls circled Bonnie and Elena, sizing them up. There were four of them—all cut from the same stone and deadly looking.

"I'll ask again, for the last time before I cut Blondie's throat and let my sisters have a drink." The one holding Caroline threatening. _So she was the leader_ , Bonnie thought. "Where is Emmaline?"

Elena and Bonnie turned to one another, perplexed. They stood with their backs pressed against a brick wall etched with graffiti. The school's courtyard was mainly frequented by stoners and pre-dropouts, but they'd been cornered there when leaving practice. The sun was going down.

"W—we don't know. Emma left school a while ago." Elena admitted, her voice shaking. Bonnie clenched her fists and prayed, because she _knew_ what the girls were.

Empusae. They'd come looking for Emma, but she'd left the school almost a month ago fleeing Charlie. Caroline whimpered in her sleep when the girl squeezed her tighter.

"Not good enough." She taunted. She took the knife from Caroline's neck and Bonnie breathed a sigh of relief, which was promptly cut off as the girl moved the blade to her face. She trailed the tip across Caroline's flesh and everyone watched—Bonnie and Elena in horror, the empusae with lust—as blood poured out freely. Caroline's eyes remained closed, but she began to cry. The monster spoke over her, "The last she was seen was with you and the boy. You know what happened to her, and you're going to tell us. Either way you're going to die, but we can make it short and painless, or—" She dug the knife in some more and Caroline screamed.

Bonnie stepped forward. The empousai holding Caroline stopped her administrations and held Bonnie's gaze.

"Yes?" She prompted liltingly.

Bonnie hesitated, but Caroline's stark image forced the words from her mouth.

"Empousai, patronee of Hecate, sister to the Lamiae and the Mormo," _Shit._ She pressed on, aware that the empusae were watching her with mouths open. "—Mormolyceae, _you shall not harm this woman_." Bonnie said, repeating Charlie's words with as much self-assurance as she could gather.

The leader dropped Caroline like a hot rock, which sent Bonnie's heart soaring. She was on Bonnie in seconds however, the hot knife covered in Caroline's blood now pressed to her own neck. Bonnie's neck snapped back and her skull hit the wall with a sick crack. She heard Elena gasp from a few feet away.

"Who are _you_?" She seethed, her eyes glowing a dull red. Bonnie cringed away from her reeking breath, the world spinning around her. Without thinking she pushed out with both hands as hard as she could. A gust of wind swept her hair from her face, and when she turned her head back around she found the leader seven feet away, sprawled out on the ground.

Everyone was looking at her.

" _Who are you_?" The leader breathed, this time considerably less hostile. She didn't try to get up.

Bonnie felt her muscles give, and she was forced to sink slowly to the ground. Something hot and wet was seeping into the back of her t-shirt. Bonnie was saved from having to answer when a sharp glint of light sprang up from the leader's neck. Bonnie watched with puzzlement as thick dark red blood poured from the intrusion. As she slumped over Bonnie was able to see that the light was glancing off a knife sticking out her collarbone—her own knife it seemed.

The darkness behind the girl immediately began to shift and simmer, roiling like tar in a blackened pot. The darkness took shape, coalescing into the outline of a man. Within seconds an actual, corporeal form had appeared.

It was Kai.

Standing in a halo of black light and watching as the empousai choked on her own blood, he looked like something straight out of hell. Bonnie, in her weakened state, couldn't take her eyes off him.

A flash of gray cut swiftly through her peripheral—Charlie. He gripped one of the empousai by the hair and sliced her neck practically in half. Shock remained plastered to her face, even as she fell to the ground.

Bonnie's eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges. She could barely see as the sun had set, leaving them in almost complete darkness. But she could make out Kai, his body like a wavering shadow. She could hear the horrible sound of flesh separating and blood in lungs.

Elena sank down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

" _Bonnie_ ," Elena whispered, and Bonnie could tell she was scared. "you're bleeding."

 _Oh_ , Bonnie thought, _yes of course I am._ Though she hadn't considered that before. A few feet away an empousai laid shaking, pitch blood seeping from her mouth. After a few seconds she went still. Bonnie closed her eyes, but opened them again when another hand came down on her shoulder. If she'd had the strength she would have pulled away.

Charlie reached a bony hand into his pocket and then pulled it back out. He had no qualms as he pushed Bonnie's head back and then gripped her jaw until it opened. Her upper lip curled under as he touched her, impromptu revulsion erupting inside her.

"Eat this." He said calmly. His possessed demeanor did not set her at ease in the least, but when he crumbled the food into her mouth she swallowed without protest. Her mouth was filled momentarily with gritty sweetness—thick and wholesome like honey, but spicy too. As soon as the taste was gone she was overwhelmed by a desire for more. She felt enlivened, and her vision came back instantly, sharp and clear.

She took in the scene. Kai kneeled over the body of an empousai, sneering as it took its last breath. He gripped the knife in her abdomen and pulled it out, unfazed by the disgusting squelch it made. He turned and found Bonnie's gaze, and she was so thankful he didn't try to smile.

Kai walked over, eyes hooded, and bent down. Elena and Charlie removed their hands from her quickly. Bonnie felt sick as her body was hoisted into the air, and then realized too late that he was carrying her in his arms.

"No!" She protested, but her voice wasn't very loud. He ignored her, his focus on the parking lot they were headed toward. "Put me down!" She screamed, her voice scratching against her throat like a thousand nails. Kai looked down at her, his eyes full of something she couldn't place. He stayed like that for a minute, just looking down at her, taking her in. Then his whole body stiffened as a female voice rang out behind them.

"Well, well, well. What _have_ you done?" The voice had a singsong quality to it, like a child was speaking, but each word was razor-sharp and tinged with malice.

Kai set Bonnie down on her feet but kept his hands on her shoulders. He looked like words were poised on the tip of his tongue, and Bonnie really thought that he would say something, but he just turned around; the back of his body blocking her from seeing the unfamiliar speaker.

"Hecate. I've been expecting you."


	9. Chapter 9

**138 B.C.**

 _What is it they say about family? Persephone thought. Oh, yeah—they suck._

 _Upon entering the pantheon she'd been overwhelmed by an influx of well meaning, but ultimately annoying, family members._

" _My gods, you're all skin and bones Perse! Have you been eating?" Eos, goddess of the dawn, asked her; patting her hands all around Persephone's admittedly thin form._

" _How_ does _it feel to be Hades' consort?" Nemesis kept her sharp gaze of Persephone's face, feeding on her obvious discomfort. After a tense moment she smirked. "Only kidding—loosen up girl."_

 _Persephone smiled thinly. Without thinking she cast her gaze about, searching for a manly body doused in black robes. She spotted Hades across the room with Thantos and Hypnos. He was leaning back slightly, a relaxed smile enhancing his features. She could only guess at how he was feeling, but she'd say pretty great now that he didn't have to worry about leaving without her. He would never be without her now. She looked away, the sight of him doing something to her heart._

" _Little Perse, little Perse. How are you?" A familiar voice sang. Persephone paused, then spun around, coming face-to-chest with Hecate. She couldn't help but smile._

" _Not as little as you." She quipped, tempted to bend down and ruffle Hecate's hair. She didn't though, because she knew the goddess was likely to smite her. As it was, Hecate's face turned sour._

" _Ask Hermes what happened the last time he called me little—and keep in mind that I could have done much worse." She warned. Persephone nodded and took Hecate's arm into her grasp, pulling her away from the throng of people and into a secluded corner. Hecate had reminded her of Hermes' visit to the castle._

" _Are you and my mother planning something I should be aware of?" Persephone removed her hand from the other goddess's elbow and crossed it over her chest. Hecate's eyes gleamed wickedly, and she didn't have to say anything for Persephone to know that a plan was already underway._

" _Don't bother." Persephone continued, looking around to make sure no one was listening. Everyone kept shooting curious glances in her direction, but no one was close enough to overhear. "In order to come I had swear to stay with him."_

 _Hecate's mouth dropped open, but she promptly pursed them closed. "You didn't?!" She whisper-screamed, her eyes bulging. Persephone nodded and Hecate let out a huge, tired sigh. A gust of wind that smelt like burning rubber rushed through the room and everyone else looked around, trying to determine where it had come from._

" _I'm sorry." Persephone apologized. "I needed to come—to see everyone. You don't know what it's like to go so long without anyone to talk to, or to comfort you." Hecate's gaze flickered instantaneously and Persephone followed it, finding Hermes on the other end—leaning against a wall, arms crossed, attempting to watch them covertly._

" _It's fine." Hecate breathed with none of her usual fire. "We'll take care of it." She promised, meeting Persephone's eye. Persephone didn't know what she meant by that, and there was no time to figure it out._

 _Heads swiveled in unison to watch Zeus and Hera enter together, hand in hand. Persephone's mother followed behind them, an intricate wreath of wild grass adorning her head, her arm resting in the arm of Dionysus. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, and Persephone could feel everyone waiting for her reaction. They needn't wait long._

" _Mother!" She cried out, crisp tears stinging her eyes. Demeter whirled, her floor-length gown the color of a rainy day blossoming beneath her._

" _My child!" Demeter responded, taking herself away from Dionysus and rushing toward Persephone. Their bodies collided like two slabs of marble smashing into one another, and yet it still wasn't enough for Persephone. She wished she could meld with her mother, so they would never have to be apart again. She was so overwhelmed she didn't notice the tears streaming down her face until Demeter kisses them away. "_ εραστής _." Her mother whispered again and again, only causing the tears to run harder. She had been calling Persephone that from her birth, six hundred years hence, and the familiar endearment was like balm to her soul._

 **Present**

"Expecting me? Whatever for my lord?" Hecate asked, feigning gentility. Bonnie shifted in Kai's grip. That voice—it tickled the edge of her mind, like a paintbrush's first careful stroke over a clean canvas. _What a weird feeling._ Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut and tried to scrub the unsettledness away. "I certainly wasn't expecting you. Or _this_." She spread her black fingernails spread wide, gesturing to the gruesome scene.

Bonnie peeked over Kai's shoulder, curiosity getting the best of her. She had to suppress genuine surprise when she found a woman no bigger than a child, standing over the body of the empousai leader. Her hair glowed in the dark, shimmering like strands of black silk. The air had gotten cold in the minutes since she'd arrived. Bonnie could make out a shadow, several feet behind her, which was probably Charlie lurking. Elena was squat down next to Caroline, stroking her hair, but she kept looking up to examine the newcomer, her eyes critical and alert.

"Who's that?" Hecate questioned curiously, her voice peaking. Bonnie's focus snapped back onto the tiny lady who was looking right at her. Kai turned his head slightly to look down at her. His eyebrows were drawn down over his eyes, darkening them to the color of forest green, and he seemed to be weighing something in his mind. Then all of a sudden he stepped aside, revealing Bonnie to the tiny woman.

Hecate was silent for a very long time—or what felt to Bonnie like a very long time. It wasn't a natural quiet either; the kind that's still full of breathing, and blinking, and other tiny movements. It was the quiet before a lightning strike, when all the air is sucked from a space to make room for an incoming burst of deadly energy.

"How—" Hecate muttered, breaking her reverie. The unsettled feeling in Bonnie was back, but this time it was worse—like something was scratching at her mind's door. Hecate shut her eyes. "Fuck." She muttered, then released a sigh. When she opened them again, her gaze was on Kai. "You are one lucky bastard, you know that?"

Kai stepped forward. "Over two millennia spent without my wife—of thinking that I would never see her again. You call that lucky?"

Bonnie bristled at the word _wife_. There were too many pieces of the puzzle for her to put together, and they were speaking too fast and she was already disoriented from losing so much blood. She couldn't understand, as much as she wanted too; however she didn't miss the wickedness in Hecate's smile.

"The Fates are cruel, but it seems they can also be kind. If not for their hand, I'm sure you would _never_ have seen her again. That was the spell, and it was some of the strongest magic I've ever done. _Congratulations_." She paused and looked at Bonnie, who was swaying on her feet. "As for you darling, I'm very sorry. It seems there's no way around a sworn oath after all. Well, toot-a-loo." She said, tossing her fingers about in a perfunctory wave. Her hand halted in mid-air when a blade came to rest under her chin.

"Not quite yet, H." Kai said apologetically, as though he were truly sorry to inconvenience her. He came up beside Bonnie and rested a hand on her back. "Sit, please, before you faint." He whispered into her ear, and Bonnie didn't need to be told twice. She bent down and curled her legs underneath her. She was tempted to press her face to the earth, to close her eyes and drift to sleep, but she wanted to watch whatever was happening. Plus, she didn't think the scratching in her mind would let her sleep.

"Oh, you are so daft." Hecate said, glancing from Kai to a stone-faced Charlie, who held the knife that was keeping her tame.

"I wouldn't dream of letting you leave here, only to report back to Demeter that I've found her." Kai explained. Hecate scoffed.

"I don't know what exactly you think you've found, but look at her!" She yelled, and unsurprisingly all eyes turned to Bonnie. "She's a _shell_. She's the shadow of a woman you think you loved, but who never loved you. That girl doesn't even know who she is, let alone who we are. What do you imagine I would tell Demeter?" She argued, moving around so much that Charlie had to work not to cut her.

Bonnie bristled again. It was obvious, even in the haze of her current mental state, that they were talking about her. What did Hecate mean? She wasn't a shell, or a shadow.

 _A god. As are you_.

Kai, the man in black. Charlie, the impossibly old teenager. Empousai and snake-woman hybrids, now dead or made of dust. A tiny, pale woman with hair and nails and eyes the color or midnight. And they all seemed to be talking about her.

"You're missing my point, child." Kai replied, and Bonnie screwed up her face at the use of the word _child_. Hecate looked older than him by at least ten years. "You won't be telling anything to Demeter." He left Bonnie then, moving toward Hecate until he was only inches from her. She jutted her chin, which was dangerous given her current position, but her eyes burned hot enough to pierce through a steel plate. Kai didn't shy away. Instead, he took her outstretched chin into his hand and gripped it tightly.

"You've always been dark. I know your mother, Asteria—the world's star—must have spat upon the ground when you were born. I heard your father cursed the sky, not simply because you were a girl, but because he thought you cursed." He said. Hecate keep her jaw locked, but the fire dwindled in her eyes. "I know what that's like." Kai sighed. "How alone you must have felt? How you must have ached for someone—anyone, really—to see you for what you truly are?" Bonnie could see where his fingers dug into the sides of Hecate's face, and she wanted to cry out, to stop him, but her voice was lost somewhere in her head. She could only watch.

Hecate's eyes were completely glazed over, and Charlie removed the knife from under her chin in favor of holding her up, as it seemed her knees had gone out. Bonnie wondered what Kai was doing to her.

"Do you understand now? Can you feel it? The black hole eating up your insides— _demolishing_ your psyche. It's beautiful it's own way—I'm sure you've never felt anything like it. This monstrosity was the whole of my existence for two thousand years, and I can make it yours if you'd like. Would you mind if I left this with you, for safekeeping? Maybe I'll come for it again in a century or two, if I'm feeling kind." He said. Hecate whimpered, and a line of spittle dripped down her chin.

"That's enough, uncle." Bonnie turned her head toward the new voice and almost lost her stomach to vertigo. A man with golden curls leaned against a nearby tree, his eyes narrowed.

Kai, who had never taken his eyes off of Hecate, let go of her chin roughly. "Let her go." He said softly, and Charlie took his arms away.

Hecate crumpled, or would have were it not for the golden man. He appeared, in a rush of leaves and wind, to catch her just before she hit the ground. He held her dwarfed, unconscious body to his chest; her head tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

"You are not to let her out of your sight, until I say so." Kai ordered. He stood somewhere behind Bonnie now, and if she'd had the energy she would have sought him out, but she simply couldn't.

Golden Man nodded, his face grim. Then he looked to Bonnie, and he seemed shocked to say the least. Bonnie griped her head—the scratching had turned to pounding. She felt like she was inches from a precipice, swaying between wakefulness and sleep.

"Perse?" He asked, staring at her intently.

"Ah!" Bonnie gasped. It felt like fissures were opening in the flesh of her brain and someone was pouring salt inside.

"Go! Get her out of here." Kai commanded, coming to kneel beside Bonnie. He took her in his arms and she allowed it, if only because she could barely think, let alone speak. The man disappeared, taking Hecate with him, and Bonnie finally fell over the edge, into the black abyss.

εραστής _= Greek word for "sweetheart"_


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry I've been AWOL guys. Been meaning to post this chapter for while but the last section wasn't finished. Doing Nanowrimo for another story and college, so I won't be able to update as frequently. However I'm not giving up on this story and I want to thank all of you who are still reading and favorite/followed this story. Also: I read all my comments and they make me so very happy. Thank you.**

 **Present**

"You are so ugly." Hecate groaned when she awoke to find Hermes' face less than an inch away from hers.

"Good morning beautiful." He sang, and she was even more annoyed by how delightful his voice sounded. She swatted at him until he moved away.

There was no way of knowing if it was actually morning. The room had no windows through which to see out of. It didn't even have a door. The stone walls were smooth on every face, save four or five hung torches. And in the middle of it all laid Hecate, in a humungous, silk draped four-poster bed.

Hermes curled himself around one of the posts, never taking his gaze from her as she assessed her surroundings. "I'm glad you're awake." He admitted. "It's dead boring in here without you."

Hecate sat up. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, or where she was before. All she knew was that she wasn't going to be trapped in a room with _fucking_ Hermes any longer. She hopped onto all fours and began crawling toward him.

He unfurled himself from the post and backed away. "Whatever are you doing?" He asked frankly, but she didn't miss the note of fear in his voice. _Good_ , she thought, _let him be scared_.

Hecate slunk down onto the floor and followed after him, pressing close until he was between her and the wall. Looking up at him through her lashes, she asked, "Where are we?"

"I can't say." He grumbled reluctantly. Hecate brought a hand up to his face and they both watched it spark up, bits of blue electricity jumping from her fingertips to her palm. Hermes gulped.

"Where are we?" She asked again.

"You're trying to get me in trouble. Sorry, no can do, love. Maybe if you'd done this earlier, you wouldn't be here." He quipped, and Hecate felt of rush of air before she realized he was gone. She spun to find him on the other side of the room.

"I could never take Hades in an all out battle." She replied, and her response shocked her. _Oh yes, that's what had happened_. _Oh my gods. He found Perse—or whoever she is now._ And the thoughts spiraled out from there, bouncing from Persephone's face to the indescribable pain of Hades' power. She looked up at Hermes and knew that he was thinking about the same thing. Her body heat spiked, and bolts of electricity began jumping off her skin.

"You slimy, three-faced, son of a blind crow, bastard! You sold me out!" She screamed. A stray bolt hit the bed and Hermes watched as the entire piece erupted into flames.

He sucked in a breath and the taste of smoke caught in his throat. "It was either this or have you cut into a hundred pieces and cast into the Aegean Sea. You should feel lucky this is all he's doing. You won't even be here that long, Cate." Hermes said.

"Don't you call me Cate, you fucking cheater." Hecate spat, marching closer, preparing to take off his head. It might not kill him but it would hurt like hell, and that's all she wanted.

"Gods, WE WERE ON A BREAK! Hypnos!" He shouted, and sped away before she could wrap her fingers around his neck. What at first seemed to be only the shadow of a man materialized into solidity before her. Hecate immediately felt herself become tired.

"I'll get you for this." She whispered, before falling into Hypnos' arms. She chuckled to herself. She sounded like the witches who'd been based off of her. _And your little dog too_ , her mind added before succumbing to the power of Hypnos'.

 **Present**

Hades' had Charlie drop the other two children at a human hospital. He didn't worry himself over whether they would tell what they saw—as it were, humans were adverse to believing anything they didn't see with their own eyes, and even some things they did.

Hades shifted in his chair and glanced over to the bed. _His wife_. They'd never made it official—never had the chance to—but that's what she was to him. Hecate was sufficiently taken care of for the moment, but her words still rung through his mind. _A shadow of a woman you think you loved, but who never loved you_.

Hades wasn't delusional. He was a selfish man who'd done a selfish thing. It didn't change anything that he loved her. He'd seen her in a field of anemone, a bright red dahlia tucked into the folds of her hair and a smile so heartrendingly beautiful that he felt the touch of death for the first time. He'd set upon her, like something out of a nightmare, because that was his way. And he'd seen that smile fade, seen it transform into fright, boil into anger—until her emotions disappeared entirely. But like any stupid man, he'd thought that with enough time she might _reevaluate_ him, _forgive_ his less than delicate introduction and take him into her heart. What a fool he was.

He'd sought to do differently this time—the Moirai were giving him one last chance, and he wouldn't squander it with hastiness. But while his patience was long, time was not. He wouldn't be able to hold Hecate forever. It was only a matter of time before she escaped or her minions came looking for her. He could handle the latter, but if the other gods took up her scent and started tracking—he'd be up to his ass in shit.

Bonnie needed to remember—everything. Hades twisted the thick, black ring on his left thumb until it glowed like molten magma, then stood and approached her sleeping form. Without preamble he placed his hand gently on her forehead and let it rest there.

Hades hadn't travelled into someone's head for a very long time. It is an odd feeling—akin to throwing off one's skin and pulling on someone else's.

 **138 B.C.**

 _Persephone clung to her mother like jelly. She refused to leave Demeter's side throughout pre-dinner conversation and even after everyone was seated._

 _Hestia remained standing next to the great slab of marble, her hands held aloft. "Dinner is served." Everyone's goblets filled to the brim with their desired drink. Platters of peeled grapes, figs, and dried apple strips appeared next to over-sized roast birds and dripping lamb shanks. Tin bowls of goat's milk lingered next to honey-drizzled bread and pots of seasoned olive oil. Everyone plucked what they wanted from the succulent display and began eating. They engaged in polite conversation with one another and laughed at twice-told jokes—as though they weren't there to decide Persephone's fate._

" _Mama." Persephone spoke under her breath, even though her dining partner Ares was sufficiently occupied watching Aphrodite suck the flavor from a sausage. Demeter inclined her head. "I swore. You know this?"_

 _Demeter's face turned grave, but she nodded. "Worry not. You have promised, sweet one. I have not." Her hard gaze was directed at the opposite end of the table, where Hades sat next to Poseidon. Persephone glanced over to find him watching them. There intense stare-off was broken by the sound of metal ringing on metal. Hestia was standing once again._

 _She held her goblet aloft and looked pointedly between Hades and Persephone._

" _Family—we are gathered here to express our support or opposition to the matrimony between Hades and our dear Persephone."_

 _A quick glance around showed everyone's favored stance. Aphrodite would go with Hades, because she believed love could triumph anything. Hephaestus, as her husband, would vote with Aphrodite. Artemis and Athena believed in a woman's right to choose, so they would vote with Demeter. Dionysus with Demeter as well. Hera with Hades, because she had no warm feelings for Demeter or the daughter she'd had with Zeus. Thantos and Hypnos would go with Hades. Poseidon with Hades. Zeus—undecided. Ares with Hades. Hecate, with Demeter, obviously; along with Eos and Nemesis. Apollo with Hades—if only to drive his twin up the wall. Hermes—with Hades. Hestia—with Demeter._

 _Persephone did the math in her head. Even if Zeus voted with Demeter, that left them with eight and Hades with nine. She let out a breath—that actually made things easier. She would have ended up with him either way._

" _We'll hear from Hades, Persephone, Demeter, and anyone who wishes to testify to the character of my brother or voice their concerns about this union. But first—let us toast. To being together. To love. To family." Hestia said, her voice ringing through the silent air and off the marble walls. Everyone lifted their glasses and drank._

 _Aphrodite went down instantly. Others started to follow, slamming one by one into their plates. Persephone felt sickness well up in her stomach and black began to coat the edges of her vision._

 _Her mother placed a gentle hand on her back. "Go into it now. I've got you. You'll be alright, my child."_

 _Persephone looked over to Hades' end of the table to find that he was one of the last still sitting up. His body rocked and heaved, and she knew he was fighting it. After a moment her eyes drifted closed of their own accord, and she heard no more._


	11. Chapter 11

**It took a while, but I'm happy to present you with an extraordinarily long chapter. Expect more of Bonnie's POV in the next installment. Thanks for reading!**

 **Also: Translations that are not explicitly stated in the text can be found at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

 **Present**

The mind is separated into different strata: there's the part that solves problems; the part that feels; the part that creates; the part that dreams; the part that remembers. Hades sensed that Bonnie's consciousness was being kept busy by the part that _dreams_. Meanwhile, he found himself in a familiar position—surrounded on all sides by bright, depthless white. Vibrant orbs popped into existence periodically— _memories._ They zipped past his head with a _whizz_ before blinking out of existence again. Hades held out a hand, palm open, and waited.

 _Whizzzzz—ch._ His fist closed around a memory and it made a vague sighing sound. Carefully—like stretching pizza dough—Hades manipulated the orb. Once it had grown large enough he threw it to the pristine floor where it landed with a _splat_. Hades—eager to be on his way, _wherever that was_ —stepped forward and fell through the floor, into Bonnie's memory.

* * *

 **Alaska 1950**

"Dr. Razmus! There!" The excited young man pointed across the flat landscape.

His mentor held up a hand to shush him—she'd seen the herd of caribou through her lens' scope several moments ago. She adjusted the focus and snapped a quick succession of photographs.

Her research on the herding patterns of Alaskan caribou had lost funding through the university after only three months; which meant that her and Adam were stuck supporting themselves. Every morning she arose before the sun to read over her journal and write another entry. She'd then assist Adam in making breakfast and they'd share that while waiting for the caribou. There wasn't much to see besides the animals—only vast swaths of white and grey, and the hard peaks of distant snow-capped mountains. After awhile it'd all begun to blend together for her. In the evenings, they packed up the camper and drove several miles to the next predicted location in the herd path. Adam would take the pallet on the floor while Dr. Razmus slept on the sole bed. She sometimes felt like a fraud when she looked at his excited expression. Adam had chosen to assist Dr. Razmus in her research after he took her course—Introduction to Ethology. He was half her age and his unfaltering enthusiasm for their work was both inspiring and shaming to the older woman.

She'd forgone having children and getting married to pursue her life's joy: the study of animals. And she'd never regretted it; but at fifty-something, living in a camper the size of a containment cell, with no company but that of her student, and no financial support from anyone—she found herself becoming more and more whimsical, imagining what another life might have looked like.

"Do you see Johnny trying to get fresh with Cindy?" Adam asked quietly, chuckling under his breath. Dr. Razmus peeked through her scope. Johnny was indeed showing off his antlers to attract Cindy's attention. The female couldn't care less. Dr. Razmus smiled. They'd taken to naming the majestic beasts, though to the untrained eye they all looked alike. However, Johnny liked to lift his right knee repeatedly—he'd injured it a few months back and it was still tender. Cindy had the most impressive antlers of any female in the Artic herd. And Yearling Joseph, while easily recognizable due to his size, never let any of the females lick his neck. He was obviously determined to show the herd that he was a big boy already.

Many moments passed in silence. Hades watched from beside the camper, not bothering to hide himself for this was a fixed memory and he was in no danger of being seen. It was strange for him—seeing Persephone's face so much older. Of course, she was beautiful—more so, if that was possible. Her eyes narrowed as she observed something in the distance and spidery lines etched themselves in either side of her face. An unexpected envy of mortals arose in his chest. Perhaps growing old didn't _just_ mean dying.

"Bonnette!" Adam yelled, lifting onto his arms. Hades started and his hand accidentally brushed a metal cup off an outstretched ledge and into the dirt. His entire body stilled—he shouldn't be able to do that. Bonnette C. Razmus turned in his direction, her eyes scanning and sliding right past him. "Bon—Dr. Razmus, look!" She turned and quickly brought the scope to her eye. Her face sank into a grimace.

"Wolves."

The word ran like a chill through the campsite. The female caribou had broken into a canter, poised in a loose formation around the young. Behind them—the males faced the other direction, flanked on either side by a pack of Yukon wolves.

"This is unprecedented. They couldn't possibly be about to go after the grown males?" Adam questioned, his words punctuated by the clicking of his camera. Dr. Razmus considered it, while watching the two groups of animals square off.

"It's been an _unprecedented_ winter, Adam. If the pack hasn't shared a large prey in several days then they'll do something desperate—like take on middle aged, healthy caribou males." But as she said it, she knew it didn't add up—even desperate wolves were smarter than that. And why hadn't they attacked already?

Hades saw what they did not. Only half of the wolves had confronted the caribou herd straight on, while the other half lay in the brush waiting to ambush the females and yearlings. It would be easy pickings for the starved wolves. Hades moved forward, hoping to try something he wasn't sure would work.

"Bonnette?"

Dr. Razmus cocked her head—she'd thought she heard her name on the wind.

"Bonn—" Hades reached out a hesitant hand and then snatched it back as a metal wall slammed down between him and Dr. Razmus. The wall stretched to atmospheric heights and continued on in either direction for miles. _So he could look, but he couldn't touch._

From the other side, he heard Dr. Razmus catch her breath. "Oh, no."

Hades didn't wait to hear the rest. With a snap of his fingers he was back in the white room, searching for a memory that would take him deeper.

* * *

 **Luzon, Philippines 1809**

Hades landed in a dense, pungent forest. The scent of smoke hung between the close trees; and though Hades' instinct was to search for the source, he remained in the exact spot the memory had dropped him. Righty so, as only a moment had passed when a feminine voice called, "Bon-ball, dónde estás?"

Hades twisted, but could not see to whom the voice belonged.

"Salga ahora, niña!" A girl, around fourteen or fifteen, stepped through the foliage with an annoyed expression on her face. Her sharp eyes examined every shadow and turned over every shape, searching with the same predatory hyper-focus a hawk's might. She stepped right in front of Hades—close enough that he had the urge to step back—but then continued on. Her irritated yells grew fainter as she moved farther away, until they were barely audible.

Hades' ears picked up a rustling sound coming from above—but before he had a chance to look up— _ **PLOP**_. A tiny ball of wild hair and even wilder limbs landed next to him in the dirt. It—she, he realized—snickered and then straightened until she resembled a human being. Hades stumbled back an entire step.

There—not even a foot away—was a toddler with Persephone's face. All of her features had been miniaturized and rounded off, but it was undoubtedly the goddess of springtime. Hades was stuck in place as the small child picked brambles off her brown felt dress. His brain was attempting to reconfigure itself—reconciling his apathy toward children and his incredible desire to pick her up; tamping his lust toward Bonnie and Persephone and Dr. Razmus in the face of this infantile creature; rectifying his sudden certainty that he and Persephone would have had young ones that look _just like her_ with the burning knowledge that they'd never had the chance.

She spun and began waddling her way through a thick patch of foliage, oblivious to Hades' non-presence. He followed after slowly—a safe distance away, but close enough to watch her traverse the wild landscape. Anger grumbled in his chest when he thought about someone as young as her being out in the forest all alone, until he remembered the older girl who'd been looking for her before; and that this was a past moment, already done and set.

Hades glanced ahead of him and paused—she'd disappeared. He'd not taken his eyes off her once! The god rushed forward, through a copse of leafy ferns, and emerged in a natural open arena. The space was cylindrical, with sheer rock blocking every direction but the way he'd come. Water barreled over the ledge above, down into the cracks and holes of the rock face, and finally settled in a small pool at the bottom. In the midst of the water she sat, cross-legged and bare to the bone. Her hands squished at the mud beneath her and splashed the water haphazardly. And she laughed—a high, clear giggle that could probably be heard for miles. It was the liveliest sound Hades had ever heard—which wasn't saying much, but his heart lurched just the same.

"Maliwanag na butuin, di ka ba nalulungkot, sa paligid na dilim, di ka ba natatakot, kumapit ka ng mahipit, baka ikaw ay mahulog." She sang. She took long pauses—trailing off and then starting up again a few moments later—as though she didn't have a care in the world.

Then the child looked up, her eyes wide as quarters. Blood red flower petals were drifting down into the arena. Hades watched them closely. They seemed to be coming from the air high above, and as they sank, they swirled; clinging to the girl and tickling her face and neck.

None of them touched the water's surface—not one.

Hades thought the word only a second before they appeared beside her— _aurae nymphs_. The two air nymphs settled on top of the water next to the girl, soft smiles of their faces. The child didn't startle or cry, as Hades had expected her too. She merely gathered two fistfuls of petals and offered them to the women. Hades watched them play with her—stroke her hair, blow water onto her legs, and chuckle at her tiny antics. Until the crunch of heavy footsteps sounded in the forest near Hades. They looked to one another and then disappeared in a swirl of wind.

"Ahí tienes! Por qué estás desnudo?!" The teen girl Hades saw earlier stormed past and straight into the water. The child made a noise in the back of her throat like she was keying up to cry; her eyes swiveled back and forth, as though searching for her new friends. The girl snatched her out of the water and swatted her on the bottom twice, which sent the toddler into tears. Hades moved forward—ready to do what, _he didn't know_ —but a well-placed gust of wind beat him to the punch. The girl was hit by a wall of water and effectively drenched, but not a speck landed on the child. A disembodied laugh sent the teen running, the toddler in one arm and the child's dress in the other.

Hades snapped once more.

Back in the white room again, he thought of the child's face. It stilled him for a moment. For the first time, he thought he might be able to understand Demeter. Which, contrarily, didn't lessen his hatred of her in the slightest.

The following memory was harder to stretch—more like clay than dough—but it eventually yielded to his manipulation.

* * *

 **Vienna, Austria 1414**

Two men bumped shoulders on the crowded street.

"Aye, wohin du gehst!" The smaller man shouted, pulling the furry collar of his coat higher around his neck before stalking off.

" _You_ watch where _you're_ going." Hades grumbled. The busyness and hustle was an unwelcome change from Persephone's previous past lives. Or, rather, _future past lives._ Hades struggled with each jump to place himself in time, but it was obvious that he was traveling further back—deeper into Bonnie's untapped memories. He shouldn't have been able to bump into that rude man; in fact, Hades should have walked right through him. At the very least, the man should not have been able to see what he'd bumped into.

There seemed to be a building strain—an unseen but tangible pressure around his body—that was becoming irritating, if not downright uncomfortable. It had started in the last memory as a slight ache behind his eyes and ears; but now it encompassed his entire head and neck, as well as his chest. Hades did a quick analysis (anything to keep his mind off the stench of the street and the reek of passing bodies—even the Underworld smelled better) and realized that the longer he remained in Bonnie's mind, the more ingrained he was becoming in the landscape. He could interact in ways he never had before in anyone else's mind—but he wasn't sure if he was merely changing Bonnie's memories, or somehow influencing the past.

"Verschwinde! Wie oft muss ich es lhnen sagen?" A voice sounded, causing Hades to spin in place. Across the street stood a woman, her back turned to him. No matter—Hades would have recognized her curls anywhere. She stood before a stoop—the steps leading to a half-hidden doorway, with a sign above engraved with the words, _Die Unterwelt_. Even if Hades hadn't been fluent in German, he would have put two and two together and been just as pleased. Who said the Moirai don't have a sense of humor?

She seemed to be shooing a drunk man off the front steps. The man rose, swaying heavily, and she placed a firm hand on his back to steady him.

"Kann nicht hier bleiben. In die Gasse mit dir bringe ich dir Brot, um dir nüchterm su helfren." Her hard voice contrasted with her hand, which rubbed soothing circles on the older man's back. He glanced up at her—for he was several inches shorter—and revealed his blackened upper and lower teeth in what Hades assumed was meant to be a smile. His girl waved the drunkard away and took her leave, hustling up the now clear steps and disappearing through the doorway to _Die Unterwelt_. Without hesitation, Hades followed after.

The inside of _Die Unterwelt_ was no grander than the outside—dimmed almost to total darkness, the space exuded the tangy, sweet smell of opium tea. Patrons in various states of undress lounged—or in one man's case, _sprawled_ —around the room. Slender women in pale floor-length gowns flitted from one to another, refilling empty glasses with liquid from silver decanters and whispering secret things in the patrons' ears to make their hazy eyes curl up at the corners in delight.

"Darf ich deinen Mantel Sir nehmen?"

 _May I take your coat, sir?_

Hades turned and was thoroughly disappointed. A young woman with corn-colored hair and a soft nose was holding out an expectant hand. Hades hadn't even realized he was wearing a coat.

"Nein. Wo ist die andere frau? Braune haut? Lockiges Haar?"

 _No. Where is the other woman? Brown skin? Curly hair?"_

The woman chewed on her lip for a moment, as though confused. Then she squeaked with understanding, "Uh—Bonnit!"

A man nearby—seemingly unconscious before that point—put a finger up to his mouth and shushed her. However, he only succeeded in drooling all over that finger. Hades turned back to the girl and nodded his head.

 _Where is she?_ He said in perfect German.

She seemed to struggle with telling him, so Hades pinned her with his gaze. He couldn't be sure that his usual powers would work in this memory, but her pupils dilated significantly and that was a good sign. He set to work flooding her mind—convincing her how happy she would be to simply tell him where Bonnit was, reminding her of how much she trusted him.

Her hand lifted slowly to point to a door hidden in the wall.

 _Through the kitchen and in the alley—giving Old Erick bread._

He left without another word, striding past curious barmaids like the one he'd just left. The door she'd pointed out was nearly lost to him once more, but he could see the faint edge where the opening should be in the midst of all the purple velvet. Hades pushed it open and continued forward; ignoring shouts from a fat, sweaty man who stood stirring a boiling vat of opium. He _really_ didn't appreciate the fact that he could be seen now. It was a straight shot—the opening to outside was simple, black, and not liable to be missed. Hades emerged into the stinking alley and had to catch himself—he'd almost tripped over the body lying on the ground.

The man with black teeth— _Old Erick_ she'd called him—could have been sleeping but for the gleaming red gash on the side of his head. Hades looked to his left when he heard the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh. A man stood facing one of the alley corners, his body crouched over something Hades' couldn't see.

"Hündin!" The man raised his hand menacingly, and for an instant, Hades could see the face his arm had been hiding. The face that _had not_ launched a thousand ships, but would invariably do more damage to Hades than the entire Trojan War. The face that he would cross time for—or in this case, space. For there didn't seem to be any time between Hades glimpsing the altercation and him appearing behind the man, his hand buried wrist-deep in the bastard's back. After that it was a succinct matter of pulling his beating heart from his chest and watching him drop onto the cobblestones.

Bonnit and Hades lifted their gazes and met each other at the same time. Bonnit's face was a mask of shock; of barely registered awe. Hades didn't know what to do, or say.

She mumbled something under her breath and Hades leaned down to hear her better.

"Mein ehemann."

 _My husband_.

For the briefest of seconds Hades believed she'd meant _him_ —or, he let himself believe this. But Bonnit's eyes were on the corpse, and her hands had gone to clench the stained fabric of his vest.

"Mein ehemann!"

Hades stumbled backwards, struck by the raw pain in her voice. She didn't even seem to be aware of his presence anymore, if she ever was. Her eyes looked everywhere and nowhere; searching for something in the air and finding nothing. So she continued screaming—one long, jagged exclamation after another—until people from the street finally took notice and began proceeding toward the spectacle. Hades knew he should leave. Perhaps this wasn't the way things were supposed to go—perhaps he'd done something wrong—but he couldn't conjure up the will to perform the simple task of snapping his fingers. Instead, his fingers had a mind of their own. They reached out of their own accord—he could see them clear as day, but could do nothing to stop them—as though they meant to grasp her.

They got within an inch, when—

Hades looked up at the white room from his back. His entire body thrummed with misplaced energy, and the pressure he'd noted before had doubled inside his head. He laid still, watching stray memories perform roundabouts and zigzag through the air above. Her screams echoed somewhere inside his body.

Hades fiddled with the knowledge that the longer he remained in Bonnie's mind, the more it would try to push him out. He couldn't afford to keep going much longer. Latent urgency made his hands twitch and his nerves rattle. He'd established that the memories were there, tucked away in the old filing cabinets of Bonnie's mind; but Hades had no way of knowing _how much_ Bonnie's mind held. Would she have Persephone's memories? Will bringing the memories back damage her mind, or does that depend on the sheer number of lives stored in her mind's backup drive? Why was he able to interact with her memories, and even change them completely? There were too many unanswered questions and loose variables.

Hades clutched a slow-moving memory that had been floating near his knee. It pulsed beneath his fingertips, and he noted that it had a certain weight the others had lacked. He began stretching it—plying the memory with gentle ministrations for a very long while. It was even more reluctant to open then the last one, and Hades quickly realized that he would have to hold the opening or it would begin retracting before he'd even begun to slip through. Hades stuck one leg in, and then the other, pulling the memory over himself like a pair of pants. He continued, eventually allowing the memory to close above his head.

* * *

 **Florence, Italy 1289**

Never mind the racking pain—it was the freest Bonicia had ever felt. She was viewing her body in a new way. It was not the underformed mess of angles it had once been, nor was it the overtly luscious figure her father had called " _womanly_ ". No, no—it was a vessel, stronger than an elastic band and built to cultivate life.

Bonicia's mother knelt behind her, propping her daughter's back on the flat tops of her thighs. Straight ahead, two midwives crouched between Bonicia's splayed legs, their fingers doing things that Bonicia could no longer feel. Her brain was a heady mix of rapid thoughts, blinding pain, and hysteria.

" _Aloisio_."

Her mother shushed her. "Salva la tua energia. Che sara lui a venire."

Yes, but he was meant to be there _then_. That's why Bonicia had chosen the meadow to give birth in the first place. It was perfect—bright with wildflowers, always filled with a gentle breeze, and best of all, it was secluded. No one would need to know he'd come for the birth. No one would need to know that Aloisio was the father, save Bonicia and her mother and the two midwives—who were as tight-lipped as old crones came. So why wasn't he there?

"Premere."

Bonicia felt the muscles in her stomach stretch and press, stretch and press, _stretch and press_. It was like an iron cage had closed around her midsection and was shrinking with each passing moment, forcing her organs to squeeze out through the metal slats.

"Ai, ai, ai!" Sweat dripped steadily off her nose. The older of the two women held up a wizened hand and Bonicia allowed herself to slump back onto her mother. "Dovrebbe essere qui." She breathed, allowing her eyes to slip closed.

Her mother made a disapproving noise and shook her. "Vedere attraverso, Bonicia. E'quasi qui."

 _See it through, Bonicia. She's almost here_.

Bonicia would have laughed if she weren't so tired. Her mother had sustained that her first grandchild would be a girl since she intuited that Bonicia was carrying. It had rubbed Aloisio entirely the wrong way, but Bonicia didn't mind. Having a girl would be nice, she'd reasoned. There was only so much she could teach a boy, what with Aloisio being preoccupied as he was. But a girl—she could tell her everything she knew; and when that well eventually ran out, she could always ask her mother.

"Premere."

Bonicia breathed in as deep as she could and focused on pushing the weight in her belly downward.

Downward.

"Ah!"

Downward.

"Ah!"

Downward.

"AH!" A sob of epic proportions ripped itself from her lungs and across the open meadow. She'd felt it—the slip, and then a sudden emptiness.

The shrillest of newborn cries rang out—sweet and crystal-clear, like mountain water. And the oldest crone lifted in her shriveled fingers a bundle so pink and small that for an instant Bonicia thought she might be imagining it. But then it was placed in her arms, the incontrovertible proof that she had harbored and delivered an _actual_ human being. She'd never felt more necessary—more _a part_ of something—than she did right then. And though she knew it meant little, and she was trying her best not to be vain, she _truly_ believed that there had not been a more beautiful child born anywhere, ever.

Her mother sucked in a sharp breath. Bonicia couldn't see her, but she knew her icy mother had been thawed and was attempting to hold back tears. Bonicia didn't care—she let hers flow freely.

"Tieni questo." The senior midwife said to the other, passing her a blood-soaked rag.

Bonicia's mother stiffened beneath her. _What's wrong?_ She asked.

 _The bleeding—not stopping._ The midwife who _wasn't_ , presumably, knuckles-deep inside Bonicia answered, gesticulating with her hands in an uncertain manner.

Bonicia's baby opened her puckered mouth and cooed. Bonicia sighed—how odd that one could be born looking so old. She would smooth out in a few days, surely—but Bonicia was oddly pleased to realize that people entered the world wrinkly and incapable, and left the same way.

Bonicia knew there was something wrong—in the same way one's nose smells smoke before one's brain supplies that something _must_ be burning. She knew that her mother had never unclenched; the midwives had not congratulated her on her successful birth; and her eyelids felt puffy and weighted, just as they did before sleep. Looking down on her daughter's face Bonicia had only one desire—that Aloisio should look upon her and see what she saw. Perhaps it would change everything. He would see how beautiful she looked and take her into his home; treat her as he would any of his other, _legitimate_ children.

One solemn shake of the old crone's head was enough. Bonicia was going to die. _Of course,_ she thought. _I've never been so happy. No one is allowed to be this happy and live_.

Bonicia glanced up through blurred eyes when she heard the soft tread of feet on grass. A dark figure stood some feet away.

"Aloisio!" She called to him. He seemed to hesitate, but Bonicia didn't have time for that. She could feel herself waning. "Vieni da me! Venite a vederla!" _Come to me! Come see her!_

He stalked forward, his movements more assured than before, but he stopped again a mere few feet away. Bonicia felt her mother recoil.

"Bonicia—!" Her mother started, but there wasn't time for that either.

"Madre, silenzioso!" Bonicia's shouts had lost their range—they were now merely impassioned statements. She held out an impatient hand to Aloisio. His face seemed shrouded by a haze of darkness her eyes couldn't penetrate. They would need to hurry.

"Guardare il suo viso, il mio amore. Darle un nome, e sarà chiamata che qui di seguito." _Look upon her face, my love. Give her a name, and she shall be called that hereafter._

He knelt down and put his face close to hers, but still Bonicia could not see him. It seemed she wouldn't be afforded one last glimpse of him before death. That was alright—so long as he could see _her._ So long as he could love _her_.

"Velocemente." _Quickly,_ she urged.

When his voice came it was thick, nearly unrecognizable. Somewhere beyond the dark fog surrounding him, she thought she caught the glint of unshed tears. _Yes!_ Way down inside—underneath thick blankets of pain and disorientation—was the heady sensation of victory. _He loves her!_

The name came out in syllables, but each one felt utterly right.

"Amana."

It rattled around Bonicia's head before settling into her bones; and there it sat, as though it had always been there.

"Sì, amore mio. Sì. Aman—" The unfinished sentence lingered even after Bonicia had gone; and it would always linger, hanging over Bonicia's mother and Amana for years to come. And Hades—it would surely hang over Hades, too.

The god watched in rapt horror and fascination as Bonicia's body began to glow. His stomach sank to the ground—he knew what would happen now. He'd seen it once before. Hades' hands reached out again—this time to save, rather than comfort—and scooped Amana out of her mother's limp arms. There was a brief moment when the weight of the infant was fully in his grasp, but then it was gone.

He was gone—and not to the white room. No; he knelt beside a queen's bed, one hand draped across Bonnie's sweltering forehead. And it was dark.

* * *

 **Present**

"Do you have a four?"

"Goldfish."

"It's _go fish_."

"Pretty sure it's not." Hermes quipped, his dimples peeking out as he watched Hecate pick up another card. They sat crisscrossed on the plush carpet, playing cards spread out before them. Hecate had won all of the card games that required bluffing and Hermes had won all the ones that demanded mental acuity. So, he'd suggested this asinine child's game—and it had begun to make Hecate's skull throb.

"Do you have…any twos?" He drawled.

"No." Truthfully, she was in possession of three twos. Hermes eyed her and she narrowed her gaze back at him.

"Alright." He _knew_ she was lying, but he wouldn't challenge her on something so trivial. Especially not when she was already on the verge of cracking. An unknown number of days had gone by—perhaps a million, perhaps zero—and as time progressed Hecate had descended further and further into her own darkness. At the best of times, she was a witch. At the worst of times—a demon.

She threw down her cards. "This is boring. I don't want to play _cards_ anymore." The word _cards_ came out like a curse. Hermes set down his own cards and began twisting one of the gleaming, gold bands on his wrist.

"The world is yours, Cate. We can do whatever you like." There was no need for him to lift an eyebrow or wink suggestively, as his voice was already coated with a thick drizzle of lasciviousness. Hecate stared back at him, unmoved.

"Let's talk about Merope."

Hermes huffed and a sharp eddy of wind whipped the golden hairs off his forehead.

"I'm not saying you should get over it—I'm _not_ saying that. However, it has been four hundred years, seven months, and eleven days since you found out about it."

" _It_ being you sleeping with the dimmest of the seven Pleiades."

"Yep—that was already clear. Come on, Cate. You want me to apologize again? I'm sorry." Hermes crooned. Hecate had already risen off the floor and turned away from him. In the corner across the room, Hypnos snoozed in a loveseat. His perpetual presence set her nerves on edge; she didn't like that he could put her to sleep without warning.

"Save your apologies. You still can't even admit that it was cheating."

Hermes' neck flushed with suppressed frustration, but his voice came out even. "We were on a _break_. You suggested I take a swim in Tartarus and then atomized my clothes while we were in the middle of a matinee. I assumed that meant no more Hercate for a while."

Hecate rolled her eyes and slumped onto the bed. She _loathed_ his name for the their relationship.

" _On a break, on a break._ You might as well be a parrot." Hecate glimpsed Hypnos shift in his seat and wondered how long he'd been awake. "We were not on a break. Know why? Because _I_ never said so!"

Hermes hung his head and chuckled under his breath. When he looked up his smile was wan and limp. "That's how it always is with us, Cate. You say when we're on, when were off. You get an attitude that stinks to high Olympus and I'm supposed to navigate around it." He moved toward her steadily, even after Hecate fixed him with her depthless stare. "I don't mind our back and forth—in fact, I love it. But I am not, nor will I ever be, one of your lackeys." He was crouched low, his face held directly before hers. Hermes eyes were buzzing, like a bottle of just opened champagne.

Hecate beheld him. The critical part of her mind wondered what she saw in him. Hermes was a _golden boy_ —witty, self-impressed, nonchalant—the exact opposite of her. He seemed to be waiting for her response.

"We've moved away from the point, dear. I said I wanted to talk about Merope." Hermes sighed and moved away. "Why her?"

"Why not her?" Hermes threw his hands in the air and then placed them firmly on his hips. "She was there. We didn't speak the entirety of the Thirty Years' War and I was…" He didn't finish his sentence but the truth hung in the air. He was _lonely_. Hecate was moved—but only an inch or so.

"That's the only reason? You didn't want to be alone? She happened to be close by when you caught a _stiffie_?" She was being petty on purpose.

Hermes observed her for a moment, and then his entire posture relaxed. "You're not upset with me."

Hecate scrunched her perfect eyebrows.

"Well, you are. Obviously. But more so—you're jealous of her." He cast his gaze around, as though cherubs might suddenly appear to applaud his stellar deductive reasoning.

"Is that so?" Hecate's voice was low. She was flaming—literally. The ends of her hair spewed black flames onto her sweater, which readily caught fire. Hermes balked. He'd only seen her hair do that once—1666. The Great Fire of London (also referred to as Cate's Conflagration, by the other Olympian gods). In the corner, Hypnos rose from his seat. Hermes held a hand out, stalling him.

"You want to know why I was with her when she's so _different_ from you, don't you?"

Hecate unfolded her limbs and rose from the bed. No one watching would presume that Hermes was in any sort of danger, as Hecate only reached the middle of his chest. As it was, Hermes forced himself not to take a step back.

"I could never be jealous of Merope. She's _simple._ She'd tell you everything was _fine_ , even if the Erinyes were shoving a spiked bat up her cunt. She'd happily pump out babies for you—same as she did for Sisyphus. She'd stop to admire fresh flowers, and have tea with Hestia, and believe every trick or turn of phrase you spewed at her. Some girls are simple—there's nothing wrong with that. What grates me—what really makes me want to flay the flesh from your bones—is that you could _let_ yourself be with her. Even just for one night. That after being with me for a thousand years you could lie down with someone like her and not be _disgusted_." Hecate tilted her head to the side, her eyes wide and hard. "I don't understand that, Bird."

In all of their arguments she'd never said anything of this sort. She usually disappeared in a whorl of black smoke before they could get this far. He loved her this way. Hecate was normally a needle-thin blade—she could puncture and cut and glisten with the blood of her enemies, and he admired her fiercely for that—but in the rare instances that she let him see her soft, molten core, he found he couldn't resist her.

Hermes focused on looking sincere—which he was, but the lines and angles of his face held a certain deceitfulness that was hard to negate. "You think that because I love you, I'm fucked up. That I'd have to be mentally deranged to crave the type of love only you give. Sure, that could be argued. But Cate, " He gripped her hands and felt his skin burn. "I don't love you because you're _complex_. And I don't love you because I'm masochistic—although that could also be argued. I love you for all the reasons I can't say, because they cannot be said. For the essence of you that cannot be described. I was with Merope for one night and I _was_ disgusted— _with myself_. Don't think that because I was able to be with her, I love you any less."

Hecate didn't respond, but she allowed him to keep holding her hands—his thumb caressing smooth circles on her dainty knuckles.

"Do you suppose I'll ever be forgiven?"

Her eyes flicked up from watching their interlaced hands and a lazy smile spread across her lips. "For sleeping with Merope? I suppose. For helping Hades imprison me? Well, I'll have to get you back for that somehow." She leaned up and kissed him gently on the chin.

Hermes gulped, but his happiness won out over his fear. "Bring it on, little girl."

Hecate had no time to react to Hermes jib. Darkness sprang up in the middle of the room and swirled into human form. Hypnos scrambled up from his seat to stand at attention.

Hades had appeared, his black cloak half-covering the limp body in his arms. He turned his eyes to Hecate, and said, in a voice that brokered no room for discussion, "Fix what you did."

* * *

 **138 B.C.**

 _Ants. There were ants all over her skin. She couldn't see them—the darkness was too thick—but she could feel them crawling on the cusps between her fingers and over the sensitive skin of her stomach._

" _Get them off me!" She screamed and out of the darkness her mother's voice answered back._

" _Shh,_ _εραστής. You're alright, my child. How much longer?_ _"_

" _Her whole body needs to be covered—head to toe. This is not to be rushed." Another voice issued._

 _Persephone felt the ants on her armpits and shoulders now. Farther away—more distant than the prickly uncomfortableness of the ants—she sensed someone brushing the hair off her forehead._

" _Thing are changing, my sweet." Her mother's voice was closer now. "This is only the beginning for you."_

 _The ants had made their way up to her neck._

" _I wish there had been time to explain. I wish… never mind that." Demeter sighed softly and Persephone felt her breath brush her face. She smelt eucalyptus and thought of her trip to the Garden of the Hesperides in Egypt; golden light flashed dimly behind her lids. The ants were in her mouth now._

" _Almost done. I hate to tear you away from your moment, but I'll need you to hand me that knife."_

 _Persephone whimpered when her mother's hand left her forehead. The ants were weaving their way across her scalp._

" _Here."_

" _Thanks."_

" _He won't be able to find her? Ever?" Her mother whispered._

" _She made a vow, Demeter. I wasn't anticipating that, but Hades was smart to get her to say the words. This spell will keep her from him—at each mortal death her soul will claim a new host and live again, rather than be sent to the underworld. But…"_

" _But?" Demeter asked, her voice hard as flint._

" _Their souls are bound. This seems a mere temporary fix." Silence followed._

" _I shall see her free as long as I can. Proceed."_

 _Hecate set her hands just above Persephone's stomach and began to chant._

 _Oh. Persephone squeezed the eyes she'd forgotten she had. The ants were burrowing into her, looking to make a home in her flesh. Persephone screamed into the darkness._

" _No, no, no, no." She muttered, trying to roll her head to the side and failing._

" _Shh, my sweet."_

 _Her mother's voice, which usually brought comfort, was only irritating now._

" _Ah! Get them off me! Please, please!" Her voice scratched her throat near raw, but nothing could distract from the pain of the ants._

" _Perse—"_

" _No!" Hecate broke off from her chant. "You mustn't touch her. This'll be over in a moment. Say your goodbyes—quickly."_

 _An indistinct gurgle bubbled out of Persephone. The ants were in her bones, as deep as they could possibly go it seemed. They wiggled and stung, excavating her like she was a mound of dirt. For the first time in her life, Persephone wanted to die._

"I love you. _I shall always be with you, my_ _εραστής._ _" Demeter promised. Thuds on a hard surface and muffled shouting followed._

" _There here. It has to be now."_

" _Go." Demeter was barely able to get the word out._

 _The sound of something sharp meeting something dull echoed in Persephone's ears._

" _Ugh." The pain had ceased. Persephone's eyes opened of their own accord, but she had trouble understanding the scene. Hecate and her mother stood above, looking down at her._

 _No—looking down at her chest. Persephone's eyes followed; there they found the handle of a blade protruding from her left breast. She was naked, but her body was covered in a thin layer of foul-smelling paste._

 _Across the room, the door broke open. But whoever they were, they were too late. Persephone could feel it—not ants, but something infinitely more pleasurable. A vibration that began where the knife was embedded and travelled outward. If she wasn't mistaken, then it seemed a golden glow was emanating from the paste. But then the paste sloughed off, falling to the table as ash, and she realized the light was coming from her skin. And heat—great heat had enveloped her form. Her skin disintegrated right before her eyes. Blood followed after—evaporating into the air._

 _Through it all, Persephone felt no pain. A sudden pull tugged her eyes up from her body's disappearance and onto a dark figure near the door. Hades, leaning heavily on the door frame, with wide eyes. She wanted to tell him that she was alright, that she wasn't suffering, but her mouth had gone._

 _After a matter of seconds, nothing remained of the goddess Persephone._

* * *

 **Translations:**

Spanish:

"Bon-ball, dónde estás?" – "Bon-ball, where are you?"

"Salga ahora, niña!" – "Come out now, little girl!"

"Ahí tienes! Por qué estás desnudo?!" – "There you are! Why are you naked?!"

Tagalog:

"Maliwanag na butuin, di ka ba nalulungkot, sa paligid na dilim, di ka ba natatakot, kumapit ka ng mahipit, baka ikaw ay mahulog." – "Bright star, don't be lonely, in the dark, don't you fear, hold on tight, lest you fall."

German:

"Aye, wohin du gehst!" – "Aye, watch were you're going."

"Verschwinde! Wie oft muss ich es lhnen sagen?" – "Get off! How many times do I have to tell you?"

 _Die Unterwelt_ – The Underworld

"Kann nicht hier bleiben. In die Gasse—mit dir bringe ich dir Brot um dir nüchterm su helfren." – "Can't stay here. Into the alley with you—I'll bring you some bread to help you sober up."

"Hündin!" – "Bitch!"

Italian:

"Salva la tua energia. Che sara lui a venire." – "Save your energy. He'll come."

"Premere." – "Bear down."

"Dovrebbe essere qui." – "He should be here."

"Tieni questo." – Hold this.

Greek:

 _εραστής - Sweetheart_


End file.
